


Void (or On the Matter of Core Souls)

by TheJadeSongbird



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dokudoki's Core!Frisk AU, Gen, Past!Queerplatonic Sans/Gaster - Freeform, Spoilers - No Mercy Route, Spoilers - Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-01 16:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5212103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJadeSongbird/pseuds/TheJadeSongbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not a normal reset. Frisk isn't quite alone from the start, and Sans can feel his sins crawling on his back. </p><p>Takes inspiration from dokudoki's Core!Frisk AU on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down The Rabbit Hole

**I.**

The hole to the Underground had no bottom in sight, Frisk noted, legs dangling over the edge of the chasm and craning their head to try and get a glimpse of light in the dark void below.  
  
_So, I just jump?_  
  
_That is the idea, yes._ Not for the first time, Frisk contemplated that they may be truly insane-- if talking to the voice in their head meant a psych visit, and listening to them by jumping into a probably inescapable pit meant a permanent room in the ward.  _You're quite bitter and cynical for a child, aren't you?_  
  
_Not a child. And I got it from you, among other things._  
  
_Such as?_  
  
_The unfettered love of science and constant nagging voice of realist-pessimism?_  
  
The voice in their head laughed, and for a moment, it felt  like a ghostly hand ruffled their hair in fond amusement.  
  
_Afraid?_  
  
_Yes. Just because you tell me we'll be fine, doesn’t mean my nightmares don’t say otherwise._  
  
_You're dreaming again?_  
  
_Are you going to explain them to me?_  A long, hesitant pause and Frisk sighed. _One day?_  
  
_Yes. One day._ They both knew that he—The Ghost – hoped dearly that that day would never come. Frisk shuffled, tossing a rock down the hole. No echoes of sound followed in its wake.  
  
_Science says I'll go splat._  
  
_Science has little room for a world of monsters and men, Frisk. You need a healthy belief in Magic to make it work._  
  
_Capital M?_  
  
_Just jump, Frisk. I would never lead you to your death—as it would cause my own._  
  
_Dweeb._  
  
_Shush._  The child ( 14 and a half, older than many timelines but not adult enough to have lost their curiosity) swung their legs to safer  ground before they stood, peering once more into the abyss below.  
  
They, Frisk and The Ghost, both knew if Frisk jumped, there was more of a chance that they could be stuck underground for the rest of their life instead of escaping. All rationales lead to this point. But as it  were, the Overworld had nothing to offer Frisk _or_ The Ghost other then pain.  
  
_You're with me?_  
  
_Until the end and beyond._  
  
Frisk adjusted their goggles- laboratory grade and deep red-- and jumped. 

 

**II.**  
  
Frisk landed face first in the pile of dirt and golden flowers, wincing when they could tell where bruises would bloom the next day. It took them a moment before they stood, wiping themselves off and rubbing at their elbows.  
  
_You missed a spot._ The Ghost had a contemplative tone, and it made the child pause. _It's nothing. It just....feels darker down here. Than before._  
  
“Howdy!” Frisk nearly screamed at the sudden voice, stumbling forwards and spinning around to face what appeared to be a giant smiling flower. “I'm FLOWEY! FLOWEY the FLOWER!”  
  
_Fascinating. I wasn’t aware of any floral monsters existing-- vegetoids yes, occasional parsniks, but flowers?_  
  
_Can we focus here? What?_

 

“Hmm... You're new to the UNDERGROUND, aren'tcha?” Frisk only nodded faintly, listening to The Ghost ramble and muse about the possible origins of a monster species he'd never encountered before.  
  
Personally, this creature gave them the _creeps_ , reminding them of distant haunting laughter and giant lovecraftian horrors that only tended to appear in Frisk's dreams.  
  
“--Ready? Here we go!” Frisk flinched at a sudden pulling from their chest-- combined with the sudden startled shout of warning from The Ghost when a red, glowing heart appeared in front of them. The flower, Flowey, was still smiling.  
  
_Soul—fight—Frisk, you need to run!_  
  
What? They ignore the spiel from Flowey in favor of their mental conversation. _But--_  
  
_The correct definition of LV is Level of Violence. EXP is Execution Points. That monster wants you dead._  
  
Frisk ran before the monster could launch an attack.  
  
“You want some LOVE, don’t----HEY!” The flower disappeared into the ground and resurfaced in front of Frisk, happy expression replaced with an infernal grin which made Frisk’s nightmares float and crawl on the surface of their consciousness. “You idiot. In this world, it’s kill or BE killed. Why would ANYONE pass up an opportunity like this!?” Frisk was shaking.  
  
  
_Frisk, stay calm. Stay determined._  
  
_B-but—_  The flower had manifested bullets around the child and they were approaching quickly.

 

“DIE!”  
  
_FRISK!_   There was a crash and a wave of heat just before Frisk’s knees buckled and they fell to the ground, vision fading in a static of orange and blue. _I’m sorry Frisk. It’s going to be okay. Trust me._  
  
_I--wait---_ Their vision blacked out before they could finish the thought. Flowey disappeared into the darkness as a tall, goat-like creature approached the fallen child.  
  
“What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth....” The youth kept shaking as the kind creature helped them up and led them through the Ruins to safety.  
  
Toriel Dreemurr never noticed that Frisk’s eyes had changed from brown to a pitch void black.


	2. Cinnamon Butterscotch Memories

**III.**

  
  
“̛͏̕ ̕͏̡I̡̡̡’̸͜͞m͢ ͝ş̸͞o̵̧͏r̀ry̕͘,̴̶ ̨̕k͘i̧͘d̢̕d͠͏o.̨̨͜ ͘Ţ̛͏h҉̶͘i̢s̸ ̴͝͡has̴͡ ̸̛̀to̶͢͞ ̶b͞͠è͟͞ ̵̧͠d̶͝on͝ę͜͟."̕  
  
“Ẁa̷͡i̧t҉—̷̕n̡̛o҉̧!͜ S҉t̨͜ơp! ͝S̕a͢͠͝ńs̴, ̡͢şt̵͠o̴͜ṕ͝—̷I ̛͠p̷͢r͝o̸m̵̀i̴s̴̨e ̵̨͟n̷̕o̵͜t͏́͏ ̢͡ţ̢o̵ ̡̕r͟ę͏̵s̕e̴͟t̢ ҉a̧g̴͞ai̸͠n̨!͝ ̸P̷͝l̶̢éaś͜e͡—̷͢҉S͠ańs͟͝—̧̡N̷̵O!̷̨͟“  
  
"҉C̕͠h͡i̸ld͢."  
  
"̡C̀hild̷,͏ ͞i̶t̨’s ̡m̴or͡n͏ing̛.̧"̵  
  
Child?” Their eyes fluttered open to see a kind face, smiling patiently down at them. Not human, but this was the Underground. Frisk was more concerned with the fact that they had no idea who she was and where they were.

  
  
_Ah. I see you’re awake._ The Ghost stirred in their shared mind. _You’re in the Ruins. She....her name is Toriel, and she rescued you from our....unfriendly encounter.  
  
I’ve decided I hate flowers.  
  
Mm._ He’s laughing at them. _She just asked you how you’re feeling._ Frisk blinked and looked up. _Are you going to sign or speak?_  
  
_Do you trust her?_  
  
_Yes. Unwaveringly._ The Ghost knew more about her, Frisk decided, than he’d mentioned.  
  
“I’m fine. Thank you...Toriel?” The monster beamed.  
  
“Yes. I am glad you are okay, my child. The Underground is not friendly to humans, and I was worried you’d suffered from your ambush.”  
  
“No—I’m—“ They had to pause to clear their throat, having used sign language out of preference for so long that speaking was strange. “I’m okay. Are all monsters—“  
  
“Like that?” Frisk watched as Toriel frowned and nodded. “Unfortunately. The gap between human and monster only widened when the barrier went up, and Asgore—“ Her face darkened.

  
  
_Interesting. Inquire further, but with caution._

  
  
“Who’s Asgore?” Toriel looked up and shook her head.  
  
“Do not worry about it child. You are safe here in the ruins, and no monsters here will hurt you.” She straightened herself up, dusting off her dress. “In fact, any encounter with the monsters here are solvable if you have a simple conversation with them.”

  
_A simple, though slightly sparse explanation, but true enough._  
  
“—will be in the living room. And of course, I left some pie for you.” Frisk looked up and indeed, there was a slice of pie beside the bed. The Ghost spoke again as Toriel left.

  
_Butterscotch Cinnamon._ Frisk smiled.  
  
_Oh hell, I’m going to marry this woman._  
  
_It’s funny you should say that...._ The smile was quickly replaced by a mental frown, and they sent The Ghost a suspicious glare.  
  
_What did you do?!?_  
  
_I may have flirted with her briefly to assure her we were okay._  
  
_G...._  
  
_After I asked if we could call her Mom?_  
  
_YOU DID NOT!_ The Ghost laughed and laughed as Frisk buried their head under their pillow and groaned.

  
  
**IV.**

  
  
_You took over again._ Frisk said once the laughter had died down and they’d leaned back, staring at the ceiling. _I thought we agreed that that was a bad idea._ The Ghost fidgeted, looking down at his hands. _  
  
I know.  
  
You didn’t even warn me.  
  
I know. _ Frisk was getting more agitated by the moment. _  
  
You can’t just--  
  
Frisk. _ They quieted abruptly, still frustrated but willing to listen. They always did—they trusted The Ghost more than anyone, especially to be honest. _I’ll admit to keeping secrets from you. That perhaps I didn’t quite adequately prepare you for the Underground and her terrors. When Toriel arrived and rescued us from Flowey, you were overwhelmed by the situation. I took control of our form and played the part of you to allow you some rest. As for the secrets....there are some things I cannot tell you, if only because it would put our venture at risk.  
  
....  
  
I am sorry, Frisk. I truly am.  
  
Warn me next time? Please? _ If the ghost had physical eyes, they would have softened.  
  
_I promise._ A ghostly hug. _Now, eat your pie and tell me about that dream of yours?  
  
_ Frisk took the pie and dug in, but didn’t speak for the longest time.  
  
_I don’t really want to talk about it. I can’t remember it well anyways—or understand it._  
  
_Frisk....._

_  
_ Another pause.

 

_I was falling. Dropped really. But it wasn’t the hole we jumped down. I was pushed, and dying. Pushed by—_ They grimaced, then closed their eyes to try and remove the dye of sharp blue light from their memory. _I don’t know who._  
  
_I see._ The Ghost was quiet and contemplative.  
  
_Do you know who? And why?_  
  
_I have guesses._ He said. _But answers will come in time._ Frisk sighed, although at this point it was more tired than biting.  
  
_I’m going to shove pie up your nasal cavity if you keep being cryptic._  
  
_Says the one being nose-y._  
  
_Nooooooooooooo, puuuuuuuns!_ Frisk giggled again, but The Ghost laughed too. For all that the underground was treacherous, at least they weren’t forced to go trekking through it alone.

  
  
  
**V.**

 

“Well done, my child. I am proud of you.” Frisk smiled brightly at the praise and waved goodbye to the Migosp. It waved back, hopping and vanishing into the shadows. “Shall we continue on?” 

  
“Yeah!” Toriel laughed and trekked through the ruins as a skipping Frisk trailed on behind them. The Ghost watched the two silently, following at a slower pace in his invisible and incorporeal form. He didn’t stick to the path, it didn’t matter as nothing in his wake was disturbed. No leaves shifted under his feet, and no monsters looked up in his presence.

  
  
The Ghost could admit to himself, he never expected to end up sharing a mind and form with a small child, a human no less.  
  
Then again, Frisk had never been an ordinary human, had they?

  
  
**He pushed me” Frisk sobbed and wrapped their arms around his torso. “I’m dying. I don’t know if I can reset—I don’t want to die.”  
  
“Reset Frisk! Try and Reset! i believe in you and your determination!”  
  
“It hurts---“  
  
“Reset Frisk--RESET!”**

_  
_  
The Ghost, or G as Frisk called him, knew that Frisk didn’t remember anything from before the last Reset. Dreams and Night Terrors were the worst of the lot, and he wanted it to stay that way. The Overworld had no place for either of them, but the Underground was nowhere near safe for the youth.  
  
Frisk had suffered. Everyone had because of the barrier, the timelines, and yes— the Resets.  
  
The Ghost looked up at the sound of Frisk’s laughter as they skipped back towards him with the Her-No-Longer-Royal-Majesty Toriel, flashing a beam his way when they passed.  
  
_Come on, last one there is a slug!_  
  
Their laugh filled him with determination—a strange sensation for a sort-of-ex monster. G smiled and ran after them.  
  
He’d made many, many mistakes over the years. Helping Frisk was never one of them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Frisk's nightmare/memories are supposed to be distorted as they can't remember them clearly or recognize them. Essentially, it was the moment that Frisk was about to become Core!Frisk (with an interruption from best-goat-mom)--
> 
> “im sorry – kiddo, this has to be done.”  
> “Wait—no! Sans, stop—I promise not to reset again! Please—Sans—NO!”  
> “Child”  
> “Child, it’s morning”
> 
> Also, The Ghost/G/Gaster(because many of you recognize him) is a troll. It's skeleton genetics.


	3. The End of the Ruins

  
**VI.**  
  
“Toriel, please. How do I get to the rest of the underground?” They'd been begging her for information for days now. Make no mistake. Frisk and The Ghost loved the serenity and comfort of the Ruins. However, they knew if they stayed for more than the month they'd spent here—adjusting to life down here, they'd never leave.  
  
They had to leave. They wanted to see the rest of the Underground, meet the people there and help them. The Ghost had told them that they were suffering, and that Frisk had the determination to help them escape from the darkness that held them rounded up like sheep in a pen.  
  
Toriel stared at them, eyes darting frantically around before they closed and she stood.

 

“I have to do something. Stay here.” Her voice was firm as she swept out of the room.  
  
_Frisk--_  
  
_I know._ Frisk went after Toriel, vaulting down the stairs to the usually out-of-bounds corridor that Toriel had pulled them from multiple times. The stone hallway was dim and eerie, and Frisk –out of breath-- slid to a stop behind the goat monster, who refused to turn around.

“You wish to know how to return 'home' do you not?” Toriel said, voice hard. “Ahead lies the end of the ruins. A one-way exist to the rest of the underground.” A pause. “I am going to destroy it. No one will ever be able to leave again. Now be a good child and go upstairs.“  
  
Toriel moved on, followed by a desperate Frisk, who ignored all warnings to turn back.  
  
_Is this the only way out?_  
  
_I...do not know. I believe so, but it has been a long time since my last check, and Toriel is not one to lie—even for her own gain. If she says she'll destroy the path---_ The Ghost pauses, and the feeling of dread crawled on Frisk's back. _We need to stop her._  
  
_But how?_  
  
The exit of the Ruins was a large chamber-- not dissimilar to the ones that The Ghost and Toriel passed through to her house, and that Frisk had spent hours exploring. Toriel paused in front of a large ornate gate.  
  
“You want to leave so badly?” She said, back still turned to the child behind them. “Hmph. You are just like the others.” Both Frisk and The Ghost winced at the bitter pain laced in those words.  
  
_Too long. She's been here too long, lost too many people over the years. I feel sorry for her._  
  
“There is only one solution to this.” The Ex-Queen of the Underground raised her head. “Prove yourself... Prove to me you are strong enough to survive.”  
  
Frisk's blood ran cold as the familiar feel of their Soul materializing struck them. Toriel, the closest thing they had to a mother, wanted to fight them. Familiar panic rose up in them, rivalling the frustrated calls of The Ghost.  
  
_Frisk, Frisk it will be okay! She doesn’t want to hurt you!_  
  
_I can't fight her, Ghost! I don’t want to hurt her!_  
  
_Frisk--_  
  
_Please!_ Their heart broke as they dodged fire magic and plead to Toriel that they didn't want to fight.  
  
There was no response.  
  
_G...._  
  
_Do you want me to take over? I promise not to kill her._ Frisk stopped mid-step, nearly being hit by a fireball. Toriel frowned, pausing.  
  
“Frisk?”  
  
_Pinky promise?_ A ghostly hand brushes theirs, locking pinkies.  
  
_I pinky promise._ Frisk nodded and closed their eyes, feeling the familiar swirl of Magic surround them as their consciousness faded.

**VII.**

  
Toriel didn't _want_ to fight Frisk. She wanted the child to live. To be happy. To not be killed by Asgore and his insane, mad plan for the freedom of the Underground!  
  
One soul would have been enough. Seven was far, far too many lives lost-- too many casualties for anyone's freedom.  
  
She lived. She lived ceaselessly after the death of her beloved son and his companion. She'd lived alone since she'd abdicated and moved to the Ruins. She'd watched, one by one, as human children fell down from the Overworld and left-- all to be culled for their powerful souls. They were children, full of life and innocence and they all _died_.  
  
Toriel Dreemurr was so very _tired_ of children _dying_ , and she wanted nothing more for this child-- strange as they were-- to live. They didn't want to fight her. She knew.  
  
Toriel refused to let them leave, and for a moment when they paused, she thought they'd finally given in.  
  
Instead, Toriel watched as the child—her child adopted by heart in all but blood-- was engulfed in an aura that was undoubtedly Magical.  
  
_That cant be possible. Humans aren't magical. Not like monsters._ And she couldn't deny that this Magic was very similar if not identical to that of monsters. It wasn't until the child opened their eyes that Toriel gasped. She stepped back, hands burning with fire magic.  
  
Frisk's eyes were dark and void-like-- empty like an abyss yet full of awareness that a child never should have---  
  
“No. You are not Frisk.” She said finally, eyes narrowed. “Who are you and what have you done with them?” The being that was Frisk in form but not mind tilted its head and sighed.  
  
“My apologies, Your Majesty. But I cannot allow you to fight Frisk, nor keep them here.” Her grip tightened on the Magic.  
  
“You are not my child and I am no Queen. Who. Are. You?” Not-Frisk paused and bowed slightly.  
  
“My apologies, it's been a long time, hasn't it? I do not know if you'll remember me, but my name, Madame Toriel, is W.D. Gaster. I am, or was-- the former Royal Scientist to the Crown.” It—they--he looked up at her with a patient smile, faintly sad with tinges of exhaustion.  
  
“I have a proposition for you, if you'll listen.”  
  
**VII**.  
  
Frisk woke to cold air and the faint brush of snowflakes against their face.  
  
_We're outside the Ruins. Toriel is fine, we resolved the fight peacefully and she sends her love and hugs. She wishes us well._  
  
You spoke to her?  Frisk's voice was groggy. _As yourself?_  
  
I did. He said. _And she recognizes that you aren't subverted by my existence._  
  
Oh....  
  
_She sent us with more pie, but said that it might be unwise to try and contact her in the future though._ Frisk recognized the subtext. The loss of another child was too much, and she wanted to distance herself. It made their heart hurt and tears well up in their eyes. _She does not hate you, Frisk. Never think that. You are not alone, and just because you cannot see someone physically, doesn't mean they aren't with you in your heart._  
  
_I miss her, G._  
  
_I know Frisk. I know._ Frisk ducked their head for many long minutes, taking the time to compose themselves. When they opened their eyes, however....  
  
_Ghost?_  
  
Yes, Frisk?  
  
_Why are my fingernails green and why do they smell of chlorophyll?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And of course, Frisk got silence. Gaster doesn't tell them much, does he?


	4. Deja-vu

**IX.**  
  
The path to town was long and winding. It ducked through tall, looming forests that could have been giants-- the rivers the paths their tears from the frustration of being trapped underground with no way for their branches to see the sun. Frisk pulled their sweater tighter around them as they trekked through the banks that piled high to their shoulders.  
  
_How far to town?_  
  
_A ways yet._ The Ghost craned his neck, floating beside Frisk-- still only visible to them-- but with more view of the area than through Frisk's eyes alone. _Through the forest and a few caves. Snowdin is closer to Waterfall than the Ruins._  
  
_Snowdin? As in 'snowed in'?_ The youth grinned.  
  
_Asgore never had much patience for naming_. He said, chuckling faintly. Frisk laughed too, before exhaling a puff of cold air-- visible in the sub-zero temperatures. _Try that again, and I will show you an interesting trick that only requires a touch of Magic?_ Frisk looked over at them and blinked, before they inhaled deeply.  
  
A shiver of Magic, and the exhaled cloud shaped itself into the form of a hydrogen atom.  
  
_See?_ Frisk beamed and poked at it with a finger. It dispersed.  
  
_Do it again! Do it again!_ And he did. They got through most of the periodic table by the time they came across a bridge. It was old and wooden, and had a gate too big to be useful-- its bars too far apart to keep anyone out. Frisk examined it with care, deja-vu prodding their consciousness.  
  
_Hey G? Do you know who---_ Frisk paused abruptly. The Ghost was looking behind them with a pained and frankly—longing look. It was the most emotion they'd ever seen of him, and it both confused and worried them. _G?_ They almost turned around that moment before The Ghost's hand shot out to block them.  
  
_No—don't--_  
  
“H u m a n. D o n 't y o u k n o w h o w t o g r e e t a n e w p a l ?” Close, too close. Frisk could sense the figure right behind them, practically breathing on their neck.  
  
_Ghost-- who is it?_  
  
The Ghost was silent, and the figure continued.  
  
“T u r n a r o u n d a n d s h a k e m y h a n d. “ Frisk was afraid. The deja-vu flared again in full force.  
  
“҉ ̴̴̛do͘͞͡ ͠҉y͢o̢ư ̶g̵̴͢e҉̨̛t̶ ̸͘w̧͜h̕a͏͞t ̡ì'҉m͜ ͘s̀ay̢͟į͏͢ng͞͡?̵ ̛͢t̸̀͢ha͠t ͏p̧̛r͟o͝m̡is̨͜ȩ͟ ì̛́ m̕͞a̷͠d͝e͏̴͘ ̢̀̕t̵̀o͞ he̕͢r͏̸͠.́͡͡..̷͟”  
͡  
͜͠“͝y͏ò͞u ͘͘k̵̷҉n̛͜o͠͝w̶͢ ͏̵w̨h͞a̢t̴̵ w͝o̴u͝ļ͟͞d̢͝ ̢h́a͡v͏é̸̴ ̸̀ha̶p͢p̵̨en̛͜ed̢ ̴͘͟i͝f ́͜s҉h̷̨e͠ ḩa͞dń͜'҉t̶ ̵̢sa̸i̧͝ḑ͝ ͞a̢͡nyt҉̛h̸̴i͘n̡̡g̛͜?̢ ̧͡͏.̢.̛.͜bùd̀d̷̨̡ỳ͘.̵”̴͜ ͏  
́  
́͢“̸.̸̡.̨͝.̨Y҉ ǫ̕ ͘u̶̧͘ ̕'̡͠ ̵d̨ ̢̀̕ ̵b̶͝ ̷͞ȩ̵͜ ̶͟ ͏͠d̢̕ ̷͟͟e͞ a̸ ͢͡d̨͝ ͢͏ ̵w ̛h̵̡ ̢̨e̵̢̨ r҉ ̴͡e͡ ̶̡ ̨͘y̕ o ̨́͠ų ̧͞ ͘s͡͡ ̵̕t̴͢ ͡a̵ ̴̷́n̨ ͜͝͠d.”̶͡

 

_No._ They are filled with determination and they twirl around, taking the stranger's hand.  
  
**X.**  
  
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT.  
  
**XI.**  
  
This is not the same Frisk that Sans remembered. The human rarely remembered much, if anything, of resets. The general consensus of his notes were that when offered to shake hands, they either looked at him blankly ( leaving the skeleton with a deep stone in his gut that warned him of a bad time) or nearly screeched and spun around– fresh from the ruins and afraid of what was what to come.  
  
Sans didn't tend to remember anything himself, to be fair. So when he woke up on the first day of a new reset with full memory of everything the last timeline had to offer....  
  
_***i fucked up**  
_  
**_*oh god frisk i fucked up_**  
  
**_*i dont want to forget anyone again_**  
  
**_*i cant forget another person I--_**  
  
**_*oh god—I--I_**  
  
**_*T H E I R N A M E W A S F R I S K A N D T H E Y 'R E D E A D B E C A U S E O F M E_**

  
This timeline.....  
  
This timeline, instead, it took many long moments for the human to turn around. For a moment, Sans thought they hadn't heard him and opened his mouth to speak again.  
  
The old whoopee cushion in the hand trick, always funny. The human, Frisk, smiled and giggled under their breath, the sound lightening Sans’s worries a bit.  
  
A good run then? Even though this timeline was weird and Frisk most _definitely_ seemed older than ever? Perhaps, a timeline where hopefully, no one died. But then again, those never lasted. They _always_ reset, and everyone once again lost their happy ending because of the whims of a _child_ .  
  
It made his bones rattle. Why couldn’t they just let them _alone_ ?  
  
_“Wa̢it͡—n̶o! S͜ans͢, ̢s̵top—̸I ̨prơmis̷e not t͟o re̛s̕et ̸aga͠in̨!̵ ̡Pļease̡—San̡ş—NO!́”_  
  
“—now my brother, papyrus...he’s a human-hunting FANATIC. hey, actually, I think that’s him over there.” Frisk turned and nodded, seeing the tall figure in the distance. No fear—another strange quirk of this undoubtedly _off_ timeline.  
  
Turns out it was only precursor to the biggest change yet. Instead of replying verbally, Frisk raised their hands and spoke in sign-language. _That_ was new. It made him wonder what could have changed so drastically from the reset that made Frisk non-verbal.  
  
~Is he dangerous?~  
  
“nah, he’s harmless. doesn’t want to hurt anyone.”  
  
~Am I going to have to fight him?~ They elaborate when Sans’s expression seems to darken. ~I don’t kill. I’ll fight to defend myself, but I won’t kill anyone. It wouldn’t be right~  
  
Sans could feel his fears crawling down his back. This is definitely not the same.  
  
_come on kid. give me a sign that everything will be okay-- that i'm not over my head this time._

 


	5. Arf!

**XII.**  
  
_Cold. Cold. Cold. Why did we agree again to play bait for Sans's brother....Papyrus?_ Sans had not long before hidden them behind a 'conveniently shaped lamp' when the taller skeleton had approached to berate their 'new pal' on not working.  
  
No matter what Sans said, Frisk wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't going to kill them. And no matter The Ghost's emotions toward him, Frisk didn’t _trust Sans._ Sure, he was funny enough and knew how to keep a conversation going.  
  
Maybe it was just gut instinct, but Frisk chose to sign at him instead—keep emotional distance that way.  
  
_It would make him happy, and he really is not dangerous. Toriel was more dangerous.  
_

Frisk wasn't so sure. They looked down at their feet and the footprints they were leaving in their wake.  
  
_How do you know Sans then?_ The Ghost didn't even look up. _  
  
Frisk-- _ That feeling again, he was going to try and deflect. Frisk was getting tired of deflections. This, this was _important._  
  
_Are you his dad?  
  
No--  
  
Brother?  
  
N—Frisk--  
  
Oh my god were you two a thing in a past life?_ Frisk looks at him, slightly green and vaguely distressed. _I am not flirting on behalf of you this is my body too G you can't just--  
  
Frisk. Stop. _ They stopped walking and turned to look at his incorporeal form. He actually looked frustrated at them-- a rarity in itself, as it took a lot to get him even annoyed. _No. We weren't related. No, we weren't 'a thing'. Not---  
  
A platonic thing? Best friends for life? _ They're pushing it and they know it well, getting a _look_ that meant he was closing the topic. _  
  
...something like that._ Frisk, admittedly, was surprised that they even got _any_ bit of information from them, on them.  
  
“SO, AS I WAS SAYING ABOUT UNDYNE, SANS!! OH MY GOD!! IS THAT...A HUMAN!?!?!??!?!” Frisk and The Ghost both looked up, realizing that they'd been spotted by the skeleton siblings. Sans gave a wink at them (causing Frisk to huff indignantly under their breath) before he glanced up at Papyrus.  
  
“uhhh...actually, i think that's a rock.”  
  
_He can't possibly--_  
  
“OH.

 _Oh my god.  
  
He hasn't changed a bit since he was a baby bones. _  
  
_Excuse me? Baby bones?  
_  
“hey, what's that in front of the rock?” Frisk had to slam their hands over their ears before the excited shout hit.  
  
“OH MY GOD!!! OH MY GOD!! SANS! I FINALLY DID IT!! UNDYNE WILL...I'M GONNA... I'LL BE SO.... POPULAR!!!”  
  
The Ghost burst into laughter in the back of their mind.  
  
_Of course you would find this funny._ Frisk resisted the urge to smack their face. _He's a dweeb. Like you.  
  
On the contrary, Frisk, he's a dweeb like Sans.  
  
You are all dweebs.  
  
_ ~Please lower your voice! Yes, I am in fact a human!~ Sans snorted, getting a slight glare from Frisk before Papyrus lowered his volume-- barely.  
  
“AHEM, YES. SORRY, HUMAN! YOU SHALL BE NOT PASS THIS AREA! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL STOP YOU! I WILL THEN CAPTURE YOU! YOU WILL BE DELIVERED TO THE CAPTIAL! THEN... THEN... IM NOTSURE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. BUT CONTINUE ONLY IF YOU DARE! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH”  
  
And then he's gone, running off into the distance, presumably to set up a scheme to capture them. Sans snickered again.  
  
~Having fun?~  
  
“it would be a fibula if i said this _wasn't_ very humerus.”  
  
_G? This skeleton will drive me up the wall.  
  
Tibia honest, I would be surprised if he didn't.  
  
GHOST!  
  
_ Laughter.  
  
_  
_**XIII.  
  
** The puzzles weren't too bad. To be perfectly honest, Frisk could handle those-- Papyrus cheering them on every time they got one correct with incredible enthusiasm and barely concealed affection. Sans, as much as they hated to admit it, had been right. The likelihood of him trying to harm them went down further and further.  
  
That was easy enough. Frisk came across a few monsters on the path. They laughed at the Snowdrake's jokes and traded back a few science ones. They helped undecorate the Gyftrot. Easy stuff.  
  
  
“What's that smell?”  
  
“Where's that smell?”  
  
“If you're a smell....”  
  
“Identify yoursmellft”  
  
_Frisk, run. Please._ _Just run._ Frisk dodged an attack and rolled through the snow, chuckling under their breath.  
  
_What? What's wrong?_ Pet. _  
  
Dogs. _ Pet. _  
  
Ghost, they're nice dogs! Dog-monsters? _ Dogamy and Dogaressa waved goodbye as Frisk stepped back into the path. The Ghost still looked perturbed, shooting glances back at the dog couple every few seconds.  
  
_Dogs chew on bones. I am a skeleton- or was.  
  
Are you saying that they're--  
  
Frisk--  
  
Bad to the bone?  
  
Dammit Frisk—UGH.  
  
_ Greater Dog rose from its snowbank and loomed over them.  
  
“Arf!”  
  
_Hehe, you swore._  
  
  
  
**XIV.  
**  
_G, G, G--  
  
Yes, Frisk?  
  
Snowdin is so PRETTY. _ Frisk took one step into the town and had immediately smiled brightly, running through and twirling around. _Are all monster settlements this pretty? It's so nice here and comforting and it feels like a HOME!_ The Ghost chuckled and ruffled their hair.  
  
_I take it you'd like to live here then?_ Frisk's eyes widened and the looked up at him so very hopeful.  
  
_Can we? If we make it through this?_  
  
_I can't see that being a problem, though it appears our new skeleton friends live here too._ They glanced up at the large house a few feet away. Sans stood there, grinning at the obvious enthusiasm of the child.  
  
“sup. enjoying snowdin?” Frisk grinned and nodded. “yeah, it is really nice. good job on my brother's puzzles, by the way. you were barely puzzled by them.”  
  
~Puuuuuuuuuns~  
  
"the best form of art there is."  He's grinning. They're grinning, and despite their rocky impressions, they're both laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frisk is getting tired of this cryptic nonsense. Also, many puns. Many, many puns.


	6. Dark, darker, yet darker

**XV. _  
  
"Entry Number Seventeen. _**

**Dark, darker, yet darker.  
The darkness keeps growing--  
the shadows cutting deeper.  
Photon readings negative.  
This next experiment..  
Seems--  
Very--  
Very--  
Interesting.  
... **

**What do you two think?"  
  
"i think you need a break, doc." A small, skeletal hand tugged at his arm. "alphys clocked out two hours ago and you're in double overtime. you'll get bone-tired at this rate. " The Ghost, for surely it was him, sighed and shook his head.  
  
"I need to figure this out. Just because the work on the Core is finished, doesn't mean I can give up on this. I can't afford to slack off--"  
  
"woah, hey gas. calm down." The tiny skeleton wrapped his arms around him tightly. "you aren't slacking by resting. rest is good. i promise."  
  
"Sans, if this data is right--"**

**"then we can't fix it tonight." Firmly. "but we will fix it. i promise. now rest? i've got popcorn and terrible science-fiction movies and pap is off on a play-date learning how to make spaghetti or something like that. you can even heckle the logistics like you always do--i'll even help." The Ghost, G, Gas-- sighed again but relaxed into the hug.  
  
"I'm swooning. Really." Dry humor, and Sans laughed.  
  
"see, that's the spirit. come on gas, i've already put the blasters to bed, and i know a shortcut."**  
  
The two disappeared in a flash of blue, and Frisk woke up with a start.

**XVI.**

The Snowdin Inn itself was cozy enough, despite the snores of the other tenants. Frisk stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together what they knew about The Ghost/G/Gas(?) from his few hints and the dreams.  
  
The idea of solving this mystery filled them with determination. With a quick glance around too see if he was nearby (he wasn't), they grabbed a convenient notepad and pen from the dresser and started writing.  
  
_The Ghost/G/Gas(according to Dream-sans)_  
  
_Skeleton_  
 _Came from Underground before me??_  
 _How are we sharing a mind?_  
 _Knows Sans and Papyrus and Toriel_  
 _Was dating(???) Sans? data inconclusive_  
 _-Platonic dating? More likely._  
 _-What is 'Gas' short for (assuming it's a nickname)_  
 _Won't tell me anything._  
 _Dream-Sans mentioned 'blasters', weapon?_  
 _What's the Core?_  
  
_Conclusion:_  
  
_..._  
  
_No clue._  
  
They sighed and tore up the paper, tossing it into the garbage before grabbing their stuff and leaving the room. Hopefully they'd get answers soon if they kept going? Hopefully.  
  
**XVII.**   
  
_GHOST, SINCE WHEN DO BLUE ATTACKS DO THIS?_ They're trying to hold their own against Papyrus--who'd finally decided to try and 'capture them' in order to get the prestige he so desperately wanted, and now Frisk felt like gravity had tripled in a millisecond.   
  
_Stay calm, Frisk. Stay determined. I believe in you._  
  
_DETERMINED MY A--_  
  
_Language._ Frisk bit back a growl.

~Papyrus, we don't have to do this.You're a really great guy and we could just hang out--~

“WHAT!? FL-FLIRTING!? SO YOU FINALLY REVEAL YOUR ULTIMATE FEELINGS! W-WELL! I'M A SKELETON WITH VERY HIGH STANDARDS”  
  
_WHAT?  
  
_ ~You mean spaghetti—what?~ _  
  
_ “OH NO!!! YOU'RE MEETING ALL MY STANDARDS!!! I GUESS THIS MEANS I HAVE TO GO ON A DATE WITH YOU...?”  
  
_WHAT?_  
  
~I--~

“LET'S DATE L-LATER” He attacked again, bones swirling in the wake of their dodges. Magical energy crackled in the air and all Frisk could do is _dodge. Duck. Roll.  
  
Ghost--  
  
You're no killer. But you _ can _defend yourself._  
  
_Can I?_  
  
_Yes. Have faith._ Frisk landed from a dodge, heels digging into the frozen ground as Papyrus waxed purple prose on the pros and cons of capturing them versus their friendship.  
  
The opening filled them with determination, and they charged, leaping into the air and cannon-balling into his rib cage.  
  
Papyrus went flying, though was thankfully unharmed when he landed.  
  
“---HUMAN--” He looked up and watched as Frisk stumbled into a standing position.  
  
~I won't go quietly. Make your decision. I don't kill, but I'll fight for myself.~ For a moment, Papyrus's eyes flickered orange.  
  
And then he grinned.  
  
“WELL THEN, HUMAN!! SHOW ME YOUR COURAGE!!”  
  
They both charged.  
  
**XVIII**.  
  
An hour later, both skeleton and human stumbled back towards Papyrus and Sans's house, grinning and giggling like small children-- well—children younger than Frisk. Sans watched them with what would be an eyebrow raise if he had one.  
  
“i see you didn't capture the human. and are both alive.”  
  
“SANS!! THE HUMAN WAS A WORTH OPPONENT BUT IN THE END WE DECIDED THAT MY STRENGTH WAS VASTLY SUPERIOR AND I WANTED TO SPARE THEM!!!” Frisk is giggling and the look Sans shoots them is a cross between resignment, amusement and relief...? “HUMAN, I'LL SEE YOU FOR OUR DATE SOON ENOUGH, YES?” Frisk sighs silently and gives two thumbs up. “EXCELLENT!!”  
  
Papyrus disappears.  
  
“you're going on a date with my brother?” Sans is grinning-- his usual expression which leaves Frisk wondering what he's really thinking. Frisk shrugs.  
  
~I suppose so.~ Sans stands and walks passed them, pausing only briefly to clap a hand on their shoulder.  
  
“you're a strange kid. just keep in mind, if you hurt him--” His left eye flashes a bright blue and Frisk flinches, deja-vu causing something in their consciousness to click into place. Sans paused at that for a moment. “you're going to have a bad time. understood?”  
  
~Yeah.~ The word is signed shakily, and Sans just watches them for a bit longer before disappearing himself.

  
  
_Ghost?_ It takes a long time before they speak.  
  
_Frisk?_ Concerned. Curious.  
  
_I think...._ A deep breath. _In that dream..._   
  
Y _es?_ A hesitant response and Frisk pauses once more.  
  
_He's the one who pushed me. Sans. But that can't be possible, right? I hadn't met him yet when that dream started. It's not possible. Not real. Right?_  
  
Silence.  
  
_Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This is getting interesting. Next chapter is an interlude between Snowdin and Waterfall, and we finally get to see a bit on why Frisk briefly had green nail polish -dark laughter-


	7. Interlude One: The Last Snowfall

**XIX.**  
  
“Clever. Verrrryyy clever.” The flower again—Flowey. Gaster only spared the creature a quick glance as he entered the final room of the Ruins. “You think you’re really smart, don’t you? In this world, it’s kill or be killed. But you—you decided to play by your own rules.” Gaster said nothing, only stepping around it until it spoke again.  
  
“W.D. Gaster. You don't technically exist in time, and yet you're here--” Flowey's face contorted. “In the mind of a small child. Tell me, what do you think you'll accomplish? What will you do if you meet a relentless killer? You’ll die and you’ll die and you’ll die. Until you tire of trying. What will you do then? Will you kill out of frustration?”  
  
“Enough, Asriel. I am not here to listen to your meaningless drivel.” He deflected a series of bullets shot at him. “Your attacks are pointless and it would make this venture far easier if you'd just pass on instead of keeping hold of your miserable half-life without a soul.” Black, abyssal eyes look up at the flower. “Unlike others, I remember every reset. Every time you've tried to take control and become _god_. You will _never_ succeed.” The determination flower snarls at him, spiked roots appearing out of the ground.  
  
“You think you're so _clever_ , aren't you Mr. Royal Scientist. Your arrogance will _get you killed_ , and when it does, Chara and I--”  
  
“Chara is _dead_!” Loud, echoing words from such a small form. “I exorcised their soul myself when I revealed my existence to Frisk!” The flower looked up at him for a moment, eyes narrowing.  
  
“No-- that's not possible. No—no----you----” And that's the moment the former prince-turned-flower snapped, sending blast after blast at Gaster and attempting to grapple him with his spiny roots. “You IDIOT! I'm going to KILL YOU and that CHILD AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN!” His face contorted into a twisted demonic visage. “ILL RESET AND DO IT AGAIN-- AND THEN---” A deep shuddering breath and a twisted grin.  
  
“And then I'll kill your little _friend_ too. The one so fond of puns—Sans, was it? Your little _boyfriend, r_ esponsible for _so_ many resets--”  
  
Sparking orange and blue, and Flowey was slammed against the wall, gasping for breath as sharp nails dig into his stem. Presence and magic seemed to make the former-skeleton-turned-ghost seem taller and exhibit an aura that emanated _void_.  
  
_“You will not touch him_.” Gaster hissed, eyes dark and words distorted by the eerie overtones that echoed in his voice before he fell into the Core. “ _You will not touch him. You will not harm him. You will not speak to him or think about him and if you even consider it I will rend you into the nonexistence that I was for so long. There will be no escape-- no place you can hide,_ _ **little prince.**_ _This game is over, and I am the one rewriting the rules. “_  
  
A painful flush of magic, and Flowey is hit with pain before they are dropped roughly and Gaster turns, departing for the exit.   
  
“You---you---” Gaster is gone, and Flowey ducks into the earth below to tend to his wounds.

 

 **XX.**   
  
Flowey had no idea how much time had passed in between the confrontation and now, surfacing at the beginning of the Ruins among the patch of golden flowers that had once been the arriving place of the fallen human so very, very long ago.  
  
Chara. Gaster had killed Chara, and had ruined _everything_ . Years and resets of planning and attempts, and now he _waltzes in_ as a wild card, _screwing things up._   
  
Flowey knew that Chara would be unlikely to spare him-- hazy memories of timeline after timeline had proven it. But he couldn't let this all go to _waste,_ not on the whims of some _washed up_ , _time shattered skeleton_ !  
  
The idea made him rage and crackle and smash, sending all monsters in the Ruins hiding. It was during that rampage, that he realized something.  
  
There was no Toriel here. No former-mother-goat-dragon monster anywhere in these Ruins. With that tidbit, a plan started forming in his head.  
  
“Oh, oh yes. This will do _nicely._ ”  
  
Flowey disappeared into the ground again.  
  
Oh yes. W.D. Gaster would _pay_ for ruining things and humiliating him.

  
  
**XXI.**  
  
Far away and an undetermined amount of time in difference, a child with dark hair and brown eyes pulled their bag over their shoulder and waved goodbye to a tall skeleton with a scarf, and a smaller one in a blue jacket.  
  
It was time to move on. They had an adventure to continue.  
  
  
  
  
**END OF PART ONE – THE LAST SNOWFALL**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)


	8. Fear

**XXII.**  
  
“Hey Sans, weren’t you here for breakfast just a few minutes ago?” Frisk and the Ghost hadn’t been in Waterfall for more than a day when they ran across Sans at a hot dog stand (‘what, never seen a guy with two jobs before?’), who promptly when seeing them declared it ‘break time’ and offered to take the child out to lunch.  
  
Frisk decided shortly after that they absolutely despised Sans’s ‘shortcuts’—they were disorienting and made them nearly fall over their feet.  
  
_Careful, Frisk—no,, just put your left foot down—there we go._  

“nah, I haven’t had breakfast in at least half an hour. you must be thinking of brunch.” They’d finally gotten their balance when the bar lit up with laughter, causing Frisk to look up to see familiar faces—monsters they’d ‘fought’ earlier—all seeming to be friends of the small skeleton. Said skeleton pulled a bar stool out for them. “here, get comfy.”  
  
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT.  
  
_Oh my god, Ghost._  
  
The Ghost is laughing again. Sans grins.  
  
 “whoops, watch where you sit down. Sometimes, weirdoes put whoopee cushions on the seats. anyways, lets order.” There doesn’t seem to be a menu, but Frisk orders a burger, and drifts off in their own head for a bit.  The bar smells like grease and fast food, a far cry from the spaghetti-scented house of Papyrus and Sans, or the wafting waves of cinnamon and butterscotch from the Ruins…  
  
The thought of Toriel—warm and safe and too torn at letting them leave filled them with menancholic reminders of sorrow.

“so what do you think of my brother?” Sans sparked them out of their mental musings.  
  
-Papyrus? He’s cool.-  
  
“ Of course he’s cool” Frisk couldn’t help but laugh when Sans started rambling about  his battle body and his escapades with Undyne, only to stop when he looked at them confused. “what?” Frisk took a bite of their burger, pushing the ketchup over to him as they stuck one thumb up in the air.  
  
-You’re a-dork-able. And you obviously love him a lot. It’s….nice.- Sans looked at them strangely for a moment before staring at his burger thoughtfully.  


**XXIII .**  


“have you ever heard of a talking flower?” Frisk looks up from their burger with a startled, almost frightened look that gives away far too much for their liking. “so you know all about it. the echo flower.”  
  
_Flowey?  
  
No…a different species of flora. Non-sentient. _ Frisk relaxed slightly, and Sans continued on oblivious.  
  
 “they’re all over the marsh. Say something to them and they’ll repeat it over and over…”  
  
-That’s not creepy.- Sarcasm in sign language.  
  
“ what about it? well, papyrus told me something interesting the other day. sometimes, when no one else is around… a flower appears and whispers things to him.”  
  
_Oh dear….  
  
Called it. I CALLED IT. _  They’re deaf to Sans still speaking. The skeleton in question is watching the human curiously.  
  
 “flattery…advice…encouragement…predictions. weird, huh? someone must be using an echo flower to play a trick on him. keep an eye out, ok?”  
  
-Oh—yeah. I can do that.-  
  
“thanks.” Sans paid the tab, clapping them on the shoulder before disappearing.  
  
_G…what did you do to Flowey?  
  
I warned him to mind his own business._ Simply.     
  
_I have a bad feeling about this.  
  
If he resurfaces, we’ll deal with it then. Until then, we need to continue onwards.  
  
Back to Waterfall where it’s warmer?  
  
Yes. _  A chuckle. _Much._

  
**XXIV.**

 

Frisk’s first impression of Undyne is far from a good one, and it leaves them shaking for hours after, still feeling the itch of the long grass on their skin and the crackling energy of her spear prickling their eyelids.  They hadn’t been this scared when they fought Toriel. Toriel didn’t want to _hurt them._ Even when they fought Papyrus, they knew that he was ultimately a good guy and a friend.  
  
Frisk doesn’t know Undyne, and the Captain of the Royal Guard wanted to rip their soul out and use it to start a war on humanity.  
  
Frisk didn’t want to die, and it wasn’t till they tripped over yet another Moldsmal that The Ghost stepped in.  
  
_Frisk, there’s an empty path over here. Rest._  Ghostly hands pried their figures from their palms, patting the faintly blooded marks left behind and guiding them to sit. Frisk moved mechanically, but a few moments later started to silently sob.  
  
_I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die._ The Ghost sat down beside them and wrapped his arms around them.  
  
_We’ll be okay. I promise.  
  
What if she kills us? I—I can’t---  
  
Frisk. Look at me. _  The young teen-child snuffled and looked up, teary eyed and afraid. _I won’t let her kill you. I swear.  
  
Pinky promise? _  A faint chuckle and a ghostly pinkie locks with theirs.  
  
_I promise Frisk. I promise._


	9. W. D and The Ghost

**XXV.**

The first time Frisk sees them, it’s out of the corner of their eye in the middle of what they’d come to term a ‘Ghost Dream’—snippets of the Ghost’s memories (for there’s nothing else it could be--). Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for them to be seeing them, an invasion of privacy no doubt. But Frisk didn’t have any control over the dreams and relented—watching him and Sans laugh and smile and throw puns and science each other with a wild abandon that made them sigh.  
  
The Ghost must be awfully lonely, Frisk decided, since they couldn’t talk to Sans like this.  
  
The first time Frisk sees them, it requires a triple take and a moment to process the grey figure beside them, watching the scene with them. Colourless and a good foot shorter than them, the figure was the spitting image of a ten year old Frisk. After a moment, the child looked up at them with eyes like the Void.  
  
**_Hello. I wondered when you’d notice me._  **They didn’t speak, their mouth didn’t move, but Frisk could hear them clear as day. **_Sad, isn’t it. Perhaps a bit fascinating—considering of all the possibilities in the multiverse, you’re an anomaly._** ** _G̡͈̤̳̻͇̦̲̝͖̰̮̘̦̰̙̺͎̀̾ͣ͋ͩͫͫ̎͒ͥ̌ͬ̀̌͛̽ͧ͡a̷̧̡̮̲͕͚̾̃͆͛͐ͯ͂́s̴̥͓̭̘̘͑ͦ͌̿̍̒̄ͭ͡ţ̢͓̤̩̮̙̣̜̟ͣ̑͂͋ͩͣ̑̀́̀̄̆̾̑̍͜͝͞ḙ̭͎̠͈̪̟̻͔͎͇̠͇̻̝͍̯̰͇͛̔̇̽ͬ̿̊̿̏̒̏ͩ̆̚͢͡r̆̄̾ͤͬͤ̂̂̊̃̽̚_** ̴̷̢̙͚̮̪̞̯̮̬͕̰̲̦ͮ͂̓͑͛̃̚͠ ** _shouldn’t be in your head, and yet...._**  Frisk watched them with undisguised curiosity, brain rushing with a million hypothesis and failed conclusions.

 

“Who are you?” They spoke—not even bothering to sign. The figure just tilted its head, and for a brief moment, a faded image superimposed itself behind the greyscale child—tall and thin and looming.  
  
**_I’m a could have been._ ** A chuckle. **_And a could-be._**  
  
 The figure turns away, and Frisk can feel the vertigo of waking up.  
  
**_Call me W.D, Frisk. It’s simpler that way._**

****

**XXVI.**

**_Did_** ** _G̡͈̤̳̻͇̦̲̝͖̰̮̘̦̰̙̺͎̀̾ͣ͋ͩͫͫ̎͒ͥ̌ͬ̀̌͛̽ͧ͡a̷̧̡̮̲͕͚̾̃͆͛͐ͯ͂́s̴̥͓̭̘̘͑ͦ͌̿̍̒̄ͭ͡ţ̢͓̤̩̮̙̣̜̟ͣ̑͂͋ͩͣ̑̀́̀̄̆̾̑̍͜͝͞ḙ̭͎̠͈̪̟̻͔͎͇̠͇̻̝͍̯̰͇͛̔̇̽ͬ̿̊̿̏̒̏ͩ̆̚͢͡r̆̄̾ͤͬͤ̂̂̊̃̽̚_** ̴̷̢̙͚̮̪ͮ͂̓͑͛̃̚͠ **_ever tell you about the war between Humans and Monsters?_** W.D showed up more frequently now in their sleeping moments—pushing aside dreams to allow uninterrupted conversation. Upon arrival, the scene shifted around them to the caverns of the Waterfall Marsh—crystals and mushrooms and echo flowers glowing softly against the water. Frisk looked up at them as they sat down beside them, pulling their shoes off and dipping pale toes into the pond.

“He did—The Ghost did. The Humans were afraid....because they were afraid of the Monsters taking their souls?” A nod.

 ** _It would take the soul of nearly every monster ... just to equal the power of a single human soul. But a monster with a human soul..._** A raspy chuckle, echoing and distant ** _.  A horrible beast with unfathomable power. A power that has no counter._**

 ** _  
_** Frisk had nothing to say about that. What could they say?

W.D began to speak again.  

**_Seven of their greatest magicians sealed us underground with a magic spell. Anything can enter through the seal, but only beings with a powerful soul can leave.   There is only one way to reverse this spell. If a huge power, equivalent to seven human souls, attacks the barrier...It will be destroyed._ **

“Us?” Frisk tilted their head. “Are you a monster?” W.D shrugged.  
  
**_I’m an anomaly. Like you._** _A pause. **There** **is a prophecy, you know.**_  
  
“That’s not science.”  
  
W.D _smirks._  
  
_**Science has little room for a world of monsters and men, Frisk. You need a healthy belief in Magic to make it work.**_ The words are uncomfortably familiar, but Frisk answers without forethought-- **  
**  
“Capital M?” The Grey Child laughed.  
  
_**The Angel...The One Who Has Seen The Surface... They will return. And the underground will go empty.**_

  
Silence.

  
  
“Empty doesn’t just mean that they leave....”  
  
**_Some say that the Angel is an Angel of Death. It depends on your interpretation.  
_**  
“ _Please_ don’t tell me I’m the Angel.” Frisk looked over at them dubiously, and for the second time, the child laughed—pulling their feet out of the water and standing.  
  
_**Oh, no. The Angel isn’t you. The prophecy’s already been fulfilled.**  
_  
“What?” No laughter this time.  
  
_It’s funny. Sans was so afraid of resets that he tried to make sure another one would never happen again. And he succeeded. This is the last timeline._

  
  
**XXVII.**

  
_Hey Ghost?  
  
Yes, Frisk?  
  
What’s a ‘Reset’_ The Ghost paused and looked at them sharply.  
  
_Where did you hear that term?  
  
I was dreaming._ Not a lie. The Ghost, G, says nothing for a long while. _Please tell me? Even if you never tell me anything else, tell me this?  
  
_ Ouch. That seemed to make The Ghost wince.  
  
_It’s...a rare function of Determination—the desire to change fate. It is suggested that those with enough Determination can reset time, marking points in time and allowing one to ‘reload’ time to that point. Turn back the clock so to speak._

  
  
_Oh....._

  
_Yes._

 _  
Determination... Can monsters use it?  
  
Not really. It appears to be a human trait.  
  
Can **I** use it? Reset?  
  
Why? Do you want to?  
  
... A sigh._  
  
_In any case, no. You can’t reset. Not for lack of Determination, however...._  
  
_Why not?_  
  
_Perhaps it’s not necessary? For you to have it in the greater scheme of things?_  
  
_Oh....._

  
**XXVIII.**

  
It’s not until Undyne collapses the bridge underneath their feet and sends them falling into an abyss—echoes of The Ghost’s voice trying to wake them—that Frisk learns his name.

  
  
**“hey, hey gas.” It’s an early memory. Sans had snuck up behind him and tapped his arm. The taller skeleton turned to look at him.**  
  
**“Ah, Sans. How can I help you?” Sans grinned, dark eyesockets lit up as he tugged on ~~G, The Ghost,~~ Gas’s arm.**  
  
**“come look at something.” The shorter skeleton pulled him over to a testing room. “doc, step back and watch what I figured out!” Sans’s eyes went dark for a moment, before the right one lit with a sharp electric blue. Magic crackled in the air like static, and the air above him shimmered. A white—strangely shaped skull formed, its eyes glowing the same blue. Sans pointed to a wooden pole target off to the side. The skull seemed to open its mouth, before releasing a heavy beam of energy.**  
  
**The target disintegrated as the skull vanished.**  
  
**“so? so? what do you think?” Gas stepped across the room, kneeling down at the location of the former target.**  
  
**“You’ve gained remarkable control over your magic, Sans. I’m very impressed.” Sans was practically vibrating in place, grinning widely.**  
  
**“guess what i named it?” A look that would be an eyebrow raise.**  
  
**“You named your attack?”**  
  
**“pap’s influence. but guess!”**  
  
**“I cannot. Tell me.” An amused smile, and Sans smirks.**  
  
**“gasterblaster.”**  
  
**...**  
  
**“Let me get this straight. You not only named your attack after me, but are making an innuendo with it?” Incredulous but not surprised.**  
  
**“gasterblasters—blasted right into the bone zone.”  Sans is enjoying this very much. He’s lucky Gaster loves him—even if just platonically.**  
  
**“Brat.” Gaster sighs.  “Don’t let the other scientists hear that. They make enough unfounded jokes as it is.”**  
  
**“yeah,  yeah, doc wingdings gaster, married to science.” A chuckle. “let’s get back to work.”**

**XXIX.**

  
  
Frisk woke with a start in a bed of golden flowers, staring at the concerned face of ~~The Ghost, G, Gas--~~  
  
“Gaster. Your name is Gaster.”


	10. Speaker

**XXX.**

The Ghost of Gaster stared at them for the longest time—an expression of confusion, shock and what could have been a hint of fear plastered on his face. Frisk watched as he tried to speak, once, twice, three times.

But no sound came, and instead he resorted to signing—hands shaking.

_Frisk, how do you know that?_ Dark eyes watched him solemnly for many long seconds before they responded in thought.

Frisk told him. Frisk told him everything, words tumbling out amixed with sharp breaths when they ran out of air. About the first dream in Snowdin. The many echoes after that flickered. They ducked their head when they spoke of the frustrations of being kept in the dark-- Frisk didn't have to look up to see his pained expression, to see the grief in his frame.  
  
They didn’t have to look up, and frankly, they _couldn’t._ The idea hurt too much, and years of friendship and being their closest confidant left Frisk with the uncanny ability to empathize with his every emotion.  
  
Gaster was hurting, and all Frisk could do is duck their head and try not to cry because how unfair was this? For him to be stuck like this? It was no way to live.  
  
A ghostly twinge, and skeletal arms wrapped themselves around Frisk as both human and monster cried in a bed of golden flowers over what had been lost.  
  
  
**XXXI.**

“Do you want him to know?”  Thin hands wiped tear tracks from their cheeks and pulled down the goggles over their eyes to hide the obvious signs of the last hour, before they tangled in the incorporeal fabric of The Ghost’s  jacket. “Sans? That you’re—“  
  
_I don’t--_  Gaster’s voice wavered slightly but kept firm. _I don’t believe that that would be a good idea. My...demise...wasn’t easy, and lead to the memories that all who knew me to be removed. For all intents and purposes, I never existed. Sans...I can’t imagine he’d be an anomaly._  No matter how much he’d wish him to be.  
  
“Oh.” Small voice, “I’m sorry. That can’t be easy for you.” A weak, echoing chuckle.  
  
_No. No, it isn’t. But I will persevere.._ Frisk smiled up at them.  
  
“Love you. You’re my best friend. And I wont forget you. Ever.”   
  
All the previous tears are worth the small smile that crosses the skeleton’s face. It filled them with Determination.  
  
  
**XXXII.**  
  
  
Frisk has decided that all Ghosts are Awesome.  
  
Except for the Mad Dummy. That one was a bit scary.  
  
But hey! Napstablook! Frisk beamed when they saw him and followed him to his house, revelling in his (absolutely amazing) spooktunes. He and Shyren could start a band. Sans would sell tickets!  
  
Awesome.  
  
  
**XXXIII.**  
  
  
What’s not so awesome is seeing Kid realize that Frisk was in fact being hunted down by Undyne and  consider that maybe they _shouldn’t_ be friends.  
  
“Yo, I know I’m not supposed to be here, but... I wanna ask you something.” The bridge that Kid had cornered them on was rickety and creaked in the draft of the caves surrounding. “...Man. I’ve never had to ask anyone this before... Yo...” A hesitant pause and he looked up.  “You’re human, right?”  
  
  
Frisk’s sad expression was answer enough, and Kid let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh.  
  
“Haha. Man! I knew it! ...well,  I know it now. I mean....” He looked so very lost and conflicted, and Frisk could hear Gaster sigh from behind them. “Undyne told me ‘stay away from that human.’ So, like, umm... I guess that makes us enemies or something.”  
  
_Oh child...._  
  
“ But I kinda stink at that.” Another shaky laugh. ”Yo, say something mean so I can hate you? Please?”  
  
Frisk can’t.  
  
“Yo, what? So I have to do it?”  Kid grimaced and shook his head. “Here goes nothing... Yo...I...I hate your guts!”  
  
He doesn’t sound convinced, and he knew it. “Man, I’m such a turd. I’m...I’m gonna go home now.”  
  
Kid turned and scampered off just as the bridge wavered again from another cave draft, and they slipped—lack of arms preventing a counterbalance.  
  
  
“KID!” The words slipped out before Frisk could stop them. There was a hitch of stunned disbelief from down the bridge but Frisk paid it no mind as they dove fowards towards the small, armless monster and wrapped their hands around where his armpits would have been.  The child looked  _terrified._  
  
  
“H-help!”  The words were muffled- circumstances of biology leading to their mouth being the only hold on the bridge.  Frisk’s grip tightened  and they pulled him up. Kid squeaked as they were lifted and watched them in awe as he was pulled back onto the bridge. “Y-you, you saved me! And you spoke!”  
  
A beat and a look of faint panic crossed their face. Kid didn’t see it though, turning around and staring Undyne down.  
  
The Captain of the Royal Guard backed away and fled quickly in shock.


	11. Flight

**XXXIV.**

They know the story—Undyne doesn’t have to tell them it, because they already know. Gaster has told it to them. Their dreams echo half buried could-have-beens.  
  
‘SCREW IT! WHY SHOULD I TELL THAT STORY WHEN YOU'RE ABOUT TO DIE!?!”  
  
_Undyne is dramatic as always._ Gaster looked up at the fish monster _. Are you sure you want to do this?_  
  
_She’ll keep chasing us if we don’t._  
  
_True._  
  
“YOU!” Frisk jumped a bit. “You're standing in the way of everybody's hopes and dreams!” Undyne glared down at them, fists clenched and eyes narrowed furiously. “Alphys's history books made me think humans were cool... ...with their giant robots and flowery swordswomen. BUT YOU? You're just a coward! Hiding behind that kid so you could run away from me again!”  
  
Frisk was actually a bit offended by that. 

“I didn’t hide behind anyone!”  
  
“NGAHH, YES YOU DO! How many times have you hid by that kid? How many people believe that you ‘can’t talk’?”   
  
“…”

“And let's not forget your wimpy goody-two-shoes-shtick! Oooh! I'm making such a difference by hugging random strangers! You know what would be more valuable to everyone? IF YOU WERE DEAD!!!”  
  
_She’s loud. And angry._  
  
_Yes._  
  
“That's right, human! Your continued existence is a crime! Your life is all that stands between us and our freedom! Right now, I can feel everyone's hearts pounding together! Everyone's been waiting their whole lives for this moment! But we're not nervous at all. When everyone puts their hearts together, they can't lose!”  
  
_Gaster this is so anime this isn’t even funny._

  
“Now, human! Let's end this, right here, right now. I'll show you how determined monsters can be!” The teen looked up at her, before straightening out their goggles.  
  
*** “Science Goggles” –  Armor DF 7**

*** A scientist and adventurer’s best protection**

*** INV up slightly**  
  
“I’m not going to give up my soul willingly.” They said. “And I’m not going to fight you.” There would be no point—there’s no way they could win in a battle. Not without magic. Undyne glared at them and jumped down at them from above, spear poised. Frisk raised their arms to block, crashing to the ground when collided with.  
  
Their soul turned green, and a spear appeared in Frisk’s hands. They tried to move, but their feet felt as if they’d been turned to lead weights.  
  
“As long as you're GREEN you CAN'T ESCAPE! Unless you learn to face danger head-on... You won't last a SECOND against ME!”  
  
“I’m not going to fight you!”  
  
“TOO BAD!” A moment later, a volley of spears surrounded the child. The purpose of the gifted spear became obvious as Frisk was forced to block and duck.  
  
_Gaster, watch my back?_  
  
_Of course. Duck!_  They did, narrowly missing an attack.  Undyne snarled at them and flashed a menacing smile.  
  
“For years, we've dreamed of a happy ending. And now, sunlight is just within our reach!” Another volley. “I won't let you snatch it away from us!”  
  
_Move left—duck—left—right—swipe at her now!_ That last startled them, but the moment their spear collided with Undyne’s, their soul flashed from green back to red. _Run!_  
  
“YOU WONT GET AWAY FROM ME THIS TIME!” The child was already sprinting, heels barely hitting the ground as they ducked through the corridors to the Hotlands.  
  
Another attack hit them from behind, and their soul turned green again.  
  
**XXXV.**

Lather, rinse, repeat. Papyrus even called them once, and Undyne got angrier and angrier as Frisk dodged her attacks and ran for the hills.

“STOP RUNNING AWAY!”

“I’M NOT GOING TO FIGHT YOU!” The air was getting warmer—the smell of sulfur filled the air as the hallways began to open up. They nearly tripped over their feet, eyes stinging with the sudden temperature change.  
  
_Keep running! Stay determined, Frisk!_ Gaster ran with them, doing his best to passively increase the teen’s speed with his magic. _Keep—Sans?_  
  
_WHAT?_

They looked up, and there was the skeleton at a hot dog stand. He was grinning as always.  
  
“hey kid.”  
  
~Not now! Undyne!~ His head turned, raising an eyesocket at the fish warrior. Said warrior gaped as Frisk ran by the stand without interference, buying them time to get away.  
  
“SANS, WHAT THE HELL, WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP THE HUMAN?”  
  
“union mandated break time.”  
  
“WHAT?”

“napping.”  
  
“NGAAAAAAH!”  
  
_Gaster, I love your boyfriend._

  
_Not my boyfriend. And I love him too._  
  
**XXXVI.**  
  
There is a water tank. And there is a downed fish who was overheating in her armor.  
  
The sight of that convenient water tank and a person in need filled Frisk with determination.  
  
The water was poured over Undyne’s head.  
  
Undyne ran away.  
  
**XXXVII.**

Undyne’s house is literally on fire, and suddenly, Papyrus’s inability to cook made so much sense. Frisk still didn’t want to fight Undyne.  
  
And Undyne?  
  
“What.  That’s the best you can manage? Even attacking at full force… You just cant muster any intent to hurt me, huh?” She looked much less intimidating in casual wear, and much more stunned when Frisk feigned a punch to her shoulder. “…Heh. You know what? I don’t actually want to hurt you either.” She dropped her spear. “At first, I hated your stupid saccharine schtick, but…  The way you hit me right now, it… Reminded me of someone I used to train with.”  
  
_A certain big fuzzy pushover._  
  
_Is he that soft-hearted?_  
  
_Yes._  
  
“Now I know you aren’t just some whiny loser. “ Undyne grinned—both teeth and tongue undoubtedly as sharp as her spears. “ You’re a wimpy loser with a big heart. Just like him….”  She sighed though, smile fading. “Listen, human.”  
  
“Frisk.”  A nod.  
  
“Frisk. It seems that you and Asgore are fated to fight. But knowing him… he probably doesn’t want to.  Talk to him.  I’m sure you can persuade him to let you go home.”  
  
“What if I want to stay here? In the underground?”  
  
The look of startled shock on Undyne’s face didn’t fill Frisk with determination. To be honest, it just made them feel kind of sad.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is the interlude, and then we're hitting Hotland where canon goes kerblooey!


	12. Interlude Two: No Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song inside is "No Light, No Light" by Florence + The Machine

**XXXVIII.**  
  
Papyrus was many things—and he knew them all. He knew that he was a bit brash, excitable, perhaps a bit overconfident in himself. He knew them all and he knew that those were also qualities that would help him be a royal guard when Undyne finally approved him ready.  
  
He wasn't an eavesdropper though. Nor one to pry into other’s business--not normally. Perhaps he still surprised himself then—because the human Frisk had come back from Waterfall different. Not just because they befriended Undyne. No. That was par for the course—he knew it was possible and was supremely glad it happened.  
  
Frisk was sadder. Quieter. They didn’t make as nearly many puns as they usually did with Sans.  
  
Something was wrong with his friend, and he was determined to find out why. And most of all, he had to do it without Undyne or Sans realizing. Undyne—while excitable herself- was…unsuited to helping the child. She’d likely try and suplex them and challenge them to a fight. And Sans…  
  
Sans had his own issues. Issues he hid behind a fake smile and excuses and his constant napping.  
  
No. He had to figure out this himself.  
  
  
**XXXIX**.

It took him a few days of ~~spying~~ watching Frisk to realize that strange, they weren’t particularly fond of company. They tended to gravitate towards solitude. But in that solitude, they were a different person entirely. They smiled, tilting their head occasionally in thought as if listening to a voice that the Great Papyrus couldn’t hear!  
  
It was bamboozling. Strange. He’d have to investigate further…  
  
“Howdy! What’cha doing Papyrus?” The skeleton jumped, spinning around and crouching to the level of the flower.  
  
“SHH—PLEASE BE—I mean—“ he actually lowered his voice for a rare time, as not to attract the attention of the child around the corner. “Please be quiet. I’m on a stealth mission!”  
  
“Oh? What are you watching?”  Flowey poked his head around the corner, before retreating. “Oooh, you’re watching the human!”  
  
“Yes! They’ve been…worrying. Different. I’m trying to figure out what the problem is so I can fix it!”  
  
“Well….” The flower seemed to think about that. Did they know something Papyrus didn’t?  
  
“Flowey?”  
  
“It’s nothing. Just…” another pause. “I think they’re a bit…crazy.” That didn’t make sense at all. Frisk couldn’t be crazy! It just wasn’t possible!  
  
“That can’t be right! Frisk is good! They’re just sad, and I’m going to help!”  
  
“I dunno—“ The flower pouted. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”  
  
“Why would I get hurt?” Frisk wouldn’t hurt him. They were his friend! Flowey didn’t get the chance to respond, as when Papyrus looked around the corner, he could see Frisk moving away back to town. “I have to go! Wish me luck!”  
  
“Papyrus---“  
  
No response.

**XL.**

  
  
They’d been heading this way, hadn’t they? Papyrus had lagged behind because of his conversation with Flowey, and had lost track of the human.  
  
“No, no, no—where could they be?” He took a few more steps before he heard the distant sounds of piano nearby—from the small community center that Snowdin had. Undyne? Probably.  
  
It occurred to him that maybe Undyne had seen Frisk. He didn’t have to tell her why he was looking for the human!  
  
Upon entering, it became quickly clear that the piano player wasn’t Undyne. The player was too short—not scaled at all—and…singing?  
_  
You are the hole in my head, You are the space in my bed  
You are the silence in between what I thought and what I said  
You are the night time fear, you are the morning when it's clear  
When it's over you're the start, you're my head, you're my heart.  
_  
Small fingers ran over the piano, and Papyrus stayed back—silent and startled. He hadn’t known they could even play, let along sing…talk… _  
  
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes, I never knew daylight could be so violent  
A revelation in the light of day-- you can't choose what stays and what fades away  
And I'd do anything to make you stay…  
No light, no light--Tell me what you want me to say._  
  
No. Not sad. Heartbroken. It wasn’t an emotion he was quite familiar with, but the pained waver in their voice made an uncomfortable lump in what would equal his throat.  
  
_Through the crowd, I was crying out and in your place there were a thousand other faces_  
_I was disappearing in plain sight-- heaven help me, I need to make it right_

  
_You want a revelation, you wanna get it right_  
_But it's a conversation, I just can't have tonight_  
_You want a revelation-- Some kind of resolution_  
_You want a revelation._  
  
_No light, no light in your bright blue eyes, I never knew daylight could be so violent_  
_A revelation in the light of day-- you can't choose what stays and what fades away_  
_And I'd do anything to make you stay…_  
_No light, no light--Tell me what you want me to say._  
  
  
_Would you leave me, if I told you what I've done?_  
_And would you leave me, if I told you what I've become?_  
_'Cause it's so easy, to say it to a crowd_  
_But it's so hard, my love,_  
_To say it to you out loud--_  
  
“Frisk.” The child stilled, hitting a sour note and looking over at him eyes wide—eyes that seemed to lighten in colour for a brief moment. A trick of the light?  They scrambled to sign something at him, but he just shook his head and moved to sit beside him.  
  
“The Great Papyrus thinks you need a hug. And while I am very confused that you didn’t tell us you could talk…” He shook his head again. “I am here if you need someone to confide in. Always.”  
  
Frisk looked up at him, eyes watering.  
  
“Pap—yrus—“ Their voice wavered, but he lit up slightly when they said his name. “I’m….sorry…”  
  
“It’s okay. I promise.  Does anyone else know you can speak?” They seemed to pause.  
  
“Undyne found out by accident. And Kid. But that’s it.”  
  
“Not Sans?” He said nothing when the human froze up, simply wrapping his arms around them. “It will be okay, human. I promise.”

  
  
**XLI.**

“Oh. My god. I didn’t expect you to show up so soon! I haven’t showered, I’m barely dressed, it’s all messy, and…”

Frisk laughed silently, shaking their head.  
  
_She hasn’t changed._ Gaster mused. _That’s heartwarming._  
  
~It’s okay. I don’t mind.~ Alphys paused, looking over at them warily, down at their hands and back up at them.  
  
“Are….is he here with you?”  Frisk blinked. Gaster froze.

~He?~ Alphys seemed to pause, biting at her lip.  
  
“I..guess you can tell I’ve been watching your adventures. But sometimes you pause. Seem to be listening to someone who isn’t there. Someone who would have had to teach you that language. What I’m trying to say…” She paused again.  
  
“Gaster. Is he here with you?”  
  
**XLII.**  
  
Far away, past Waterfall and Snowdin, a door opened, and two fuzzy feet stepped onto the path for the first time in over a hundred years.


	13. Must Be A Level Five Friend To Unlock

  
  
**XLIII.**  
  
“Gaster. Is he here with you?” The Royal Scientist actually looked rather excited at that prospect.    
  
_Gaster, what do I say??_ Apparently the look of stunned disbelief on Frisk’s face was enough to convince her.  
  
“Oh my god, he is. I’m not crazy.”

 _You...remember..._  Alphys nodded frantically at Frisk’s translation.

“T-there was the accident and suddenly it was like you were never born and sans quit---”

 _Does Sans remember?_ Frisk couldn’t blame him for asking, they knew he’d been wondering that himself for who knows how long. Alphys  shrunk a bit at that, looking away.

“I don't know. I..was afraid to ask. Im sorry-- I'm so--”

 _Frisk—could you--_  
  
_Yeah._

“Alphys. It's okay.” Frisk felt their consciousness partially detatch, allowing Gaster to speak and move while not fully losing control. It wasn’t a medium they were quite used to—having only accidentally used it a handful of times when they were first figuring out how much control they could share. **“Deep breaths, please.”** The scientist’s eyes widened, seeing the child’s left eye turn black and crackle with passive magic.

“You...can talk through them.” She stepped forwards hesitantly. “That's... so weird. Can they still hear us?” Gaster laughed at that.

 **“If I don't hide the conversation, yes.”**  
  
_Which is incredibly annoying!_  
  
_Yes, I know._

“Have you had to do that?” A beat before he could reply. “S-sorry. Ignore that. Me.” Gaster was nothing but patient, allowing her to calm herself before speaking.  

 **“Tell me about what has changed since the accident, Alphys.”** A small smile. **“You're the royal scientist now?”** Alphys seemed to perk up at that.

“O-oh! Yes! I built a robot for Asgore—earning me the position!”

 

Artificial intelligence? The idea struck both Frisk and Gaster simultaneously—the two had seen too many science fiction films on how that could go wrong.  
  
**“An AI? Alphys...”**  

“I-no.” She caught his meaning immediately. “He's—he was a ghost. He wanted to be corporeal—so I designed him a body. He's really happy with it t-to!”  
  
_Does the King know that?_

“What else?” Alphys glanced back at the door to the lab with a wary look, causing a wave of wary frustration in Gaster that Frisk picked up, frowning themselves.

_Gaster..._

_..._

“I-- made a mistake. And I don't know how to fix it.”  
  
**“What happened?”**  
  
“It was an accident and I didn’t know Dr. Gaster—“  
  
**“Alphys.”**  
  
“You were the head of the experiments before and you can help, right? You—“  
  
Thud. Thud Thud.  
  
 Alphys paled and both looked at the wall beside them.  
  
“Oh no.”

“O H H H  Y E S !”

 _Oh no._  
**  
** The wall exploded, an oversized calculator silhouetted in the backlight.  
  
**XLIV.**  


“WELCOME, BEAUTIES...TO TODAY'S QUIZ SHOW! OH BOY! I CAN ALREADY TELL IT'S GONNA BE A GREAT SHOW! EVERYONE GIVE A BIG HAND FOR OUR WONDERFUL CONTESTANT!” Gaster was quick to cede control to Frisk, leaving the child momentarily overwhelmed by the overhead spotlights and the glitter confetti falling on their head.  
  
_DON’T LEAVE ME!_  
  
**I believe in you.**  
  
GASTER---  
  
“NEVER PLAYED BEFORE, GORGEOUS?  NO PROBLEM! IT'S SIMPLE! THERE'S ONLY ONE RULE! ANSWER CORRECTLY...OR YOU DIE!!!”

_You better help me win this._

**Battle Start  
  
  
XLV.  
  
** ~It’s okay if you have a crush on her—does she know?~  
  
“Of c-course she doesn’t! She’d probably think I was l-lame!”  
  
**“Alphys, you know she wouldn’t do that.”  
  
** “I—I---“  
  
**“Undyne speaks highly of you. I’d be surprised if she didn’t return your affections.”** Gaster glanced at the door from earlier—labeled washroom currently. He knew better—he’d worked here after all. **“Now. Tell me what’s going on?”**  
  
As Alphys’s silence grew, Frisk felt Gaster grow more suspicious—before a faint realization seemed to cross the link between the two.  
  
_Frisk. I need to block you out for a bit.  
  
What?!?  
  
If Alphys has done what I think she’s done--  
  
What did she do?  
  
Frisk. _  His tone stopped them short. _Please.  
  
…I thought we were avoiding secrets?  
  
We are. And I’m sure you’ll find out soon. But I need to minimize damage control.  
  
…  
  
_ Frisk ceded full control, and their other eye turned black. Gaster straightened up fully.  
  
**“The determination experiments?”**  Alphys looked up, nodding faintly.  
  
“I—I didn’t know.”  
  
**“No. You couldn’t have. But what’s done is done. Show me the lab and the…”  
  
** Not experiments. Victims seemed almost blaming….  
  
**“The affected. “**  Alphys nodded and opened the door to the True Lab, and the two disappeared down into the basement.  
  
**XLVI.**  
  
Frisk woke outside the door of the lab. It was warm—blisteringly so. Gaster was sitting silently in their head—giving away no emotion to the past however long it had been.  
  
_Ghost? Is…everything okay?  
  
_ No response. Frisk sighed and looked down at their shoes, noting that they were wearing a labcoat.  
  
*** “Scientist’s Lab Coat” – Armor DF 5**  
*Always necessary during an experiment.  
  
_What are we testing?  
  
_ A pause.  
  
_The final ending._  
  
XXXX.  
  
Ontop of the roof of the lab, a child in grey watched the two converse mentally, before disappearing into thin air.   
  



	14. Goodbye, Happier Days

**XLVII.**  
  
**“There's nothing that can be done at the moment.”**  
  
**“O-oh god, oh god...”**  
  
**“Alphys.” Sharply. “Control yourself. I didn't say that nothing could be done at all. Given time, I may be able to create a counter-agent to at least stabilize the forms of the amalgamates.”**  
  
**“H-how much time?”**  
  
**“More than I have at the moment. I have a promise to keep first and foremost—to help Frisk.”**  
  
**“The barrier—you do know...”**  
  
**“That a human soul cannot alone bypass the barrier? Of course, and so does Frisk. Make no mistake, our goal is not to leave the Underground.”**  
  
**“Then w-what is? A-asgore---”**  
  
**“Everything will be fine, Alphys. Trust me.” The monster-child turned away. “And do me a favour?”**  
  
**“Yeah?”**  
  
**“I'd appreciate if you didn't try to hinder our movements through the Hotlands. I understand that it's rather late to stop Mettaton, but we're running on a schedule and there are forces at work I'd rather stay one step ahead of.”**  
  
**XLVIII.**

 

Gaster was remarkable silent for most of the journey through the Hotlands. It wasn't until Frisk had stocked up on hot animals and successfully paired up a set of guards in what could only be described as an OTP that they decided to nudge at him mentally.  
  
_Hey, you okay?  
  
__H͇̰̘̳͚̼ͫ̂͊͝m̻͙̥̱̩͉̠͛͜m̸͉͓͕̼̊̄?̯͖̟͍̺͈̄͌ͭ_ _̞̠ͧ̉͠_ Frisk blinked.  
  
_Gaster?  
  
__Ý͟-̨́--̴͜h̴͠m͟m͝.̴̡́ ̧͢In͡t̷̢̛e̵̷̕r̵̨̛_ _est--_ The static disappeared. _...strange.  
  
Are you okay?  
  
Yes, i think so. _ He seemed to pause. _Let's continue._

Frisk frowned but complied—stumbling right into a 'Quiz Show.”  
  
And then spiders. _Ugh._  
  
  
**XLIX.**  
  
**“been working overtime again, G?” The sound of a rolling chair faintly pulled Gaster out of his work-induced reverie. “you know that isn't healthy, working yourself** _ **to the bone**_ **.”  
  
“I need to get these calculations in.” Gaster murmured. “This could be it. This could be the way to break the barrier.”  
  
“this could be the way you end up falling down, and then where would i be?” Sans grinned, jumping off the chair he'd been surfing on and pulling the papers away from the Royal Scientist --tugging on his sleeve. “shit trouble.”  
  
“You aren't completely dysfunctional without me.” Gaster said dryly, allowing himself to be tugged out of his chair. “I have the utmost faith in you.”  
  
'yeah, no. I'd be a mess.”  
  
“You're already a mess. Have you cleaned your office lately—or is there still that self sustaining trash tornado there?”  
  
“i may be a mess, but i'm **_**your**_ **mess.”**  
  
**“Flirting with me again, Sans? The others will talk.” God, if he didn't sound faintly amused at that. Their coworkers already did talk—convinced the two were basically married.**  
  
**Sans pulled him into a hug.**  
  
**“let them. It's not like we don't know what's going on—platonic soulmates and all that.”**

“ **You've been reading Alphys's manga again.” Gaster chuckled under his breath, returning the hug before pressing a light kiss to the top of the shorter skeleton's head.**  
  
**“yeah.” The hug tightened. “promise you'll never go anywhere? nowhere that i can't follow?”**  
  
**“I promise.”**  
  
_I ̷p̸r̵om̛ise.̨.̵.͝.̀_

The static didn't stop, and with it, came more flashes of could have beens. “Insights', as Frisk came to term them. Most of them, as they'd learn, weren't pleasant—and as they drew closer to the Core, more and more puzzle pieces began slipping into place. They brought blinding headaches and more than a few tears that left the teen curled against the walls of an elevator.  
  
**“Child, do you hate me that much?”**  
  
**“I PAPYRUS, SEE GREAT POTENTIAL WITHIN YOU! ANYONE CAN BE A GREAT PERSON IF THEY TRY!”  
  
“For the sake of the world, I, UNDYNE, will strike you down!”  
  
“** _ **GH... GUESS YOU DON'T WANT TO JOIN MY FAN CLUB...?”**_  
  
**“do you believe that even the worst person can change?”**  
  
By the time they reached the gates of the MTT Hotel, Frisk could remember the resets—good and bad. By the time they reached the gates, they were prepared just to get up to the Core and through to the barrier.  
  
What they'd do after.....

“hey. i heard you’re going to the core. how about grabbing some dinner with me first?”  
  
Frisk had a bad, bad feeling about this.  
  
**L.**

  
“well, here we are. so. your journey’s almost over, huh?” The bad feeling hadn't decreased in the time that it'd taken them to get seats in the hotel restaurant and get their food. Sans—as always, had completely drenched his in ketchup, with a second bottle beside him. “you must really wanna go home.” He seemed to watch them for many moments, as if trying to get a feel for him.  
  
Frisk, as always around Sans, said nothing. After a moment's pause, he leaned back in his chair.

“hey. let me tell you a story.”  
  
_D͞if͝f̸e̵r͏ent͏. ̨He̛'̕s͡ g͠one ̷o̴f̧f̨ ̸scr̢ip̕t. ͝_  
  
Has he? The response they recieved was an insight—a sadder more weary Sans that suggested that maybe they should consider just staying. Not trying to find their way out.

“so i’m a sentry in snowdin forest, right?” Sans spoke up. “i sit out there and watch for humans. it’s kind of boring. fortunately, deep in the forest…there’s this HUGE locked door.”  
  
_Toriel!_  
  
Ye͜s̡.͢ ̕

“...and it’s perfect for practicing knock knock jokes. so one day, i’m knocking ‘em out, like usual. i knock on the door and say “knock knock.” and suddenly, from the other side…i hear a woman’s voice.”

“ **Who is there?”** Frisk closed their eyes, able to all but hear the light, curious voice of Toriel echoing through the stone.

“ **dishes.”**

 “ **Dishes who?”**

“ **dishes a very bad joke.”** Sans grinned. “then she just howls with laughter. like it’s the best joke she’s heard in a hundred years.” Then he paused, looking away briefly.

“that continued for a while, but she told me to come by again, and so i did. again and again. it’s a thing now.” Another pause. “one day, though, i noticed she wasn’t laughing very much. i asked her what was up. then she told me something strange.”

“ **If a human ever comes through this door… Could you please, please promise something? Watch over them, and protect them, will you not?”**

 

“now, i hate making promises. and this woman, i don’t even know her name. but… someone who sincerely likes bad jokes…has an integrity you can’t say “no” to.”  
  
Gaster seemed to flinch at that—out of the corner of Frisk's eye. Frisk knew what he was thinking about. That he'd promised Sans that he'd never leave.

_L̸͜oo̢̕͝k͞ ẃ̢here ͢͏͠t́h̛a̧͝t̴͢ ́̕g̵̷o̶t̵̕͞ ̴́m̨͝e ̕͘no̵w͟.̨ ̴̀_ His voice seemed to static again, more than it had ever recently. Frisk frowned instinctively at that-- an expression not lost on Sans.

“do you get what i’m saying?” The shorter skeleton said, left iris flickering blue for a moment. For a moment, Frisk felt detached and half-forgotten sins crawl down their back.

“that promise i made to her…you know what would have happened if she hadn’t said anything?… buddy.” Sans shook his head, chuckling under his breath.

 

“… Y o u’d b e d e a d w h e r e y o u s t a n d.”

  
  
It was at that moment that everything went to hell. The expression on Sans's face caused Frisk to jolt, a sharp frightened gasp escaping their lips as their chair scraped back and they bolted out the door.

  
  
_Fri̧ş͟ķ—͠w̸͡a̷̡i͢t! ̕͜_

_  
_  
Gaster took off after them, leaving Sans behind in the restaurant. The skeleton himself turned used a shortcut back out to the alleyway, leaning against the wall heavily.  
  
“you can come out now.” he said to empty air. “you were right. i'd hoped....”  
  
“Golly, Sans, I don't know what to say.” Roots emerged from the ground in a dizzying, twisting array as a single golden flower poked it's head out of the dirt.  
  
“just....no “i told you so'.”  
  
“Gosh, that would be rude.” Flowey shook his head. “They really know how to play people—don't they. Befriending everyone and pretending like they don't _remember_ \--”  
  
“i know, flowey. that's not going to bring her back.”  
  
“Are you going to accept my offer then?” The flower tilted its head. “We can work together—force Chara to reset.”  
  
“ _no”_ The word came out harsher than he meant it to. “no more resets. this ends here.”  
  
“You don't want to see if Frisk will be the one in control next time?”  
  
“no more resets.” Sans repeated, irises disappearing. “let's....just do this.”  
  
“Well....okay.”  
  
**LI.**  
  
Their head hurt. Their heart was pounding. But they couldn't stop running until their vision blurred and they all but tumbled through the doors that would bring them to the Core.  
  
F̷͜ŕi̶s͘͢͠k-̧҉- ̨͝͠  
  
“I'm _afraid_ Gaster!” They said, voice cracking. “I don't want to remember anything! I don't want to remember every death—mine and _theirs._ I don't want to remember the resets! I don't want to remember--” Their voice hitched once more as another insight hit them, wracking pain following it.  
  
**“i'm sorry, kiddo. this has to be done.” They're being held over the ledge, magic wrapping around them so that they're helpless to what's coming.**  
  
**“Wait—no! Stop! Sans, stop! I promise not to reset again!” The skeleton's blue irises disappeared, leaving dark void behind in their wake.**  
  
**“goodbye, frisk.'**  
  
**“Please—Sans—“ They felt the blue magic disappear from around them, and the sensation of falling and being unmade hit them. “NO!”**  
  
**They reached for the reset button. They failed.**  
  
_F̢͘͟͜͜R̵̢͢͠Ì͘S̸͝͏҉͞K̀̕͘͠!̶̸̵̕͜_  
  
Gaster's cracking voice cut through the panic, and for a moment as they looked up, Frisk saw a figure superimposed over The Ghost—desaturated skin and void eyes with what could have been a pink and blue oversized sweater.  
  
It didn't last, and the pain returned, causing them to black out.  
  
When they awoke, they were in the Core.  
  
Frisk's head was not just silent, but empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> = )


	15. Shark Tank Fabulous

**LII.**  
  
They don’t really remember having a life without their own Ghost in their head. They barely remember waking up in the hospital at seven years old, the medical chart above their head barely lit in the moonlight—the words W. G. Aster being the only print visible. 

There’s no memories before that—only hints of echoing lovecraftian screams that haunted their dreams for years to come and the warm comforting presence of something more.

 _Frisk…is it?_   Their name. The one they chose. That’s _their name._   They try to speak but only a croak passes their lips. _It’s okay. You don’t need to speak aloud. I can hear you without speech._

 _…hello?_   A sudden sense of warmth and pleased smiling.

_Hello._

_Who are you? What…._

_Just a ghost._

**LIII.**

Frisk's head was not just silent, but _empty_. Moment after moment passed before they realized that no,  Gaster wasn’t just quiet—but gone.

_…Gaster?_

_…Ghost?_

_…hello?_

Silence. Absolute silence. The pain was ebbing now, but a pit opened in their stomach as they realized they were alone.  The air in their lungs disappeared as they scrambled to dial their cellphone.

_Oh god…._

“H-hello?” Alphys picked up on the first ring. Maybe she’d seen Frisk on her screens and knew how panicked they were.

“Alphys—I can’t sense Gaster anymore.” They didn’t even bother to worry that they were speaking aloud. Alphys would have known that they could already. “They’re gone.”

There was a long pause between the lines.

“O-oh god—“

“I’m afraid, Alphys. I don’t know how to do this without him. I don’t know what to do.”

“Calm down. D-deep breaths.” The Royal Scientist tried to hold herself together. “Okay?”

“I—“ It’s difficult, very difficult.

“Breathe.”

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. “Good. Now tell me everything.”

 **LIV.**  
  
“—this has never happened before?” Alphys had told them to come back to the lab and was currently sitting across from Frisk, taking notes on her computer.  
  
“No—he’s always been there. For as far back as I can remember.” They couldn’t sit still—legs swinging nervously over the chair—just a bit too short and unable to reach the floor.  
  
“He could come back. This could be a fluke.” Alphys said, skimming the file she’d collected. Frisk bit at their lip.  
  
“Do you think it is?” There was no response. “…I….can’t stop. He wouldn’t have wanted me to.”  
  
“Do you have a plan?”  
  
“He…had one. But I don’t know what it was.”  
  
“Which means we’ll have to make do with what we _do_ know. “ Alphys closed the tab. “Gaster asked me to not interfere with your trip—so I’ll tell you what I do know.” She swung in her chair to face the human.  
  
“M-Mettaton will be at the end of the Core. He’s going to want to f-fight you there, and he’ll make as much of a spectacle as possible of it. Lights. C-Cameras. Glitter and glamour. If you can play on that, you will have a better chance at getting past him.” Frisk rubbed their eyes as an Insight showed them flashes of half-memories that concluded as such.  
  
“Play to his ego?”  
  
“Yes.” Alphys nodded. “Do you have any id-deas?” Frisk seemed to think about that.  
  
“…you…like anime, right? Do you cosplay?”  
  
**LV.**  
  
“NYAAAAAAAGH!”  The door crashes open.  
  
“ALPHYS! FRISK! WE, UNDYNE AND THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE ARRIVED!”  
  
“P-please don’t break the door!” Oh. She was blushing anyways. Frisk smiled slightly as Undyne immediately zeroed in on Alphys and all but tackle hugged her.  
  
_They’re cute. I need to get them together._  
  
“FRISK! HOW ARE YOU?” They felt themselves being lifted off the ground—pulled into a hug.  
  
“Hello, Papyrus. I’m….”  
  
“WHAT? You’re TALKING MORE?”  
  
“P-please put Frisk d-down.” Alphys pulled herself out of Undyne’s grip. “W-we….need your help.”  
  
**LVI.**  
  
“Let me get this straight.” Undyne sat up on the couch, looking between Alphys and Frisk contemplatively. “You had the ghost of a guy in your head. A monster, who supposedly accidentally erased himself from existence. And now he’s disappeared.” Frisk just ducked their head. They didn’t expect her to believe them….  
  
“THIS IS SO FUCKING ANIME! I LOVE IT!” Oh. She does believe them. Alphys sighed in belief beside them as Papyrus nodded in agreement.  
  
“I, The Great Papyrus, will help you in any way I can!” A beat. “I take it…you’re still wary of Sans?”  
  
“W-we don’t know that S-sans remembers Gaster. They were….close.” Alphys looked down. The words _it wouldn’t be fair to him_ were left unspoken.  
  
“I need to face Mettaton.” Frisk spoke up. “I know that Alphys has a cosplay closet—would you three be able to help me look ‘fabulous’ to throw him off guard?”  
  
The ‘shark tank’ look shared between Undyne and Alphys was minorly terrifying. Frisk couldn’t quite find it in themselves to mind.


	16. Anomaly

**LVII.**

  
Mettaton scheduled for the late show. Prime time TV slot—right when everyone was watching.  
  
Perfect time for a show.  The doors slid open with a click as the familiar blast of speakers lit on.  The bass  began to hum under the floor, pulsing with energy and making the crowd hold its collective breath in excitement.  
  
“OH YES. THERE YOU ARE, DARLING. IT’S TIME TO HAVE OUR—“ A pause. “WHERE ARE YOU?”  
  
There was no Frisk in the doorway. Mettaton spun around, looking for the wayward human. The door wouldn’t have opened if there wasn’t…  
  
A crackle of static and a magnified voice echoed across the room.  
  
“Right here.” Frisk had snuck onto one of the railings, swinging their legs and grinning wildly.  A device on their left arm lit up when the voice echoed— ** _thought projection_**. Doctor Alphys had gone all out for this, along with allowing unrestricted access to her cosplay closet.  Very few teenagers could pull off a full tuxedo, purple streaks mixed into black hair with full mascara that made their eyes shine like stars in a void.  
  
“MY, MY, YOU HAVE PUT SOME THOUGHT INTO THIS.” Frisk laughed silently and their armband lit up again as they slid off the railing and sauntered towards him.  
  
“Real Action, Real Drama….maybe even some bloodshed?” Eyelids lowered slightly. “Better check the mirror, MTT--- got to look fabulous for this.”  
  
A blink, so fast and the audience would have missed it. The device on Frisk’s arm lit up blue and they seemed to flicker out of existence, reappearing behind Mettaton.  
  
Click.  
  
“DID YOU. JUST FLIP. MY SWITCH?”  
  
Frisk smirked as the arena around them shot up into the air.

  
**LVIII**.

 

The armband glowed yellow as they ducked, dodged, reached out and fired—dodging another bomb as they slid into a pose.  
  
The crowd went wild and Frisk could tell the exact moment that Mettaton realized what this was doing for his ratings.  
  
**“H-here.”  Alphys pulled out a gauntlet from the cosplay chest. “It’s fake. B-but you should have s-some magic from Gaster’s presence, we can p-pretend that I made a ‘prosthetic magic wielding device’. “**  
  
**“Can that even exist?” Alphys shrugged.**  
  
**“It’s in the works. Some m-monsters just don’t have a lot of m-magical strength. It usually means a w-weaker SOUL.”**  
  
**“Won’t you get in trouble for giving it to me?”**  
  
**“P-please, no one would believe that a h-human could beat Mettaton—it would be c-considered a sporting chance—not to mention you’re not exactly subtle with your pacifism.”**  
  
**They both grin at that.**  
  
A bomb passes right by Frisk’s head-- they duck and fire again.  Another pose following a kick to the shoulder, grazing them with a hiss of metal and fabric. The Ghostbot looked triumphant for a moment, eyes narrowing as the child blew a kiss at them and downed a Starfait.  
  
 The cheers went up. Ah yes, the appeal of product placement.  
  
Three bombs landed at their feet, Frisk stumbled back and spun in place—missing a missile as they clicked the armband and with a flash of blue, shifting Mettaton out of the way.

Holographic screens appeared around them just as they paused to catch their breath.

  
_Shit—no one ever talks about how draining magic is._

“Oooh, it's time for a pop quiz! I hope you brought a keyboard... This one's an essay question!”

  
**LIX.**

  
  
**Leg. Leggy. Leg so hot it fry an egg-y.  Dork.**  
  
The resulting eye twitch was beautiful.  
  
“That’s right, Legs was the correct answer!” Mettaton’s expression turned almost feral. Oh dear.  “Your essay really showed everyone your heart. Why don't I show you mine?”  
  
A shimmer of pink and Frisk watched as a holographic projection of his SOUL appeared.  The lights above them sharpened and started firing lasers at them, as the heart started shooting _lightning_ at them.  
  
_Lightning._ What the _shit_.  
  
Frisk wasn’t able to dodge nearly as much that time, hissing in pain as their own SOUL throbbed painfully.  
  
“Aren’t we a bit early in the evening for that? We’ve barely even danced.”  Frisk’s armband lit up and they blasted a beam of yellow magic right at Mettaton.

  
**LX.**

 

Frisk had just jumped to evade a sweeping kick by back flipping off of Mettaton--  sending him flying back with a crackle of yellow energy—when the scoreboards screeched to alert the crowd that the ratings had soared over 12000. Somehow, with all of the tension already built up, it just made them cheer louder.  
  
Frisk didn’t even know people _could_ cheer that loud. Neither did Mettaton by the look on his face.

  
**LXI.**

 

The mostly quiet lab was a sharp contrast from the screaming crowds---mostly because Undyne and Papyrus were cheering.  
  
“MAN, THAT WAS SO COOL!”  
  
“FRISK, YOUR FIGHT WAS SPLENDID!” Papyrus picked them up, swinging them around. Frisk laughed. “ABSOLUTELY EXCELLENT!”  
  
 “Papyruuuuus,  put me down!” He didn’t, not right away. He spun them around a few more times for good measure before allowing them to land. “It was nothing!”  
  
“It really wasn’t.” Alphys spoke up, returning from the lab where she’d brought the unconscious form of Mettaton. “You did great, and looked great doing it.”  Frisk couldn’t help but blush. “What are you going to do now?”  
  
“LET’S HAVE A SLEEPOVER PARTY!”  
  
“YES! NYEHEHEHEH!”  
  
“I think Undyne and Papyrus just decided for us.” Frisk said, chuckling. Alphys couldn’t disagree with that. 

 

**LXII.**

  
  
It took a while for the party to die down a bit to the point that they were all calm-er and watching anime on the sofa with snacks and pillows.  Papyrus, in the meantime, kept shooting glances at Frisk.  
  
They weren’t sure they appreciated it. Papyrus meant well—they knew that.  
  
Frisk stepped out for some air, and sighed when they heard the familiar click-click of bone steps.  
  
“You’re sad.” Papyrus crouched down beside where they’d taken a seat on the steps.  
  
“He’s been in my head for seven years, Pap. Seven years and I was never alone like _this_. That combined with the fact that I still have his memories…” It made no sense—not in the least. And that didn’t help with the fact that the silence was so very, very _lonely._  
  
“Preposterous! You’re not alone. You have us!”  
  
_Papyrus…_  
  
Frisk leaned into his side.  
  
“Thank you. For everything.” Their voice cracked a bit. Papyrus shook his head.  
  
“You’re leaving in the morning, aren’t you.”  
  
“I don’t know what Gaster’s plan is-- _was_.  But everything I am is telling me to keep going. That there’s a way through. “  
  
“I have faith in you, human. You have to promise to come back though!”  
  
“Of course, Papyrus. I promise.”

  
  
**LXIII**.

  
  
Dawn had barely hit the Hotlands when Frisk, bag in hand, squared their shoulders—donned their goggles—and took off for the elevators to New Home.  
  
The halls and streets were silent as they trekked through, awash in the gray of sunrise light coming over the buildings and sinking into the streets below.

  
“ **do you remember the first time we came here on break?”**  
  
**“How can I forget? You insisted on buying us both nice cream and forgot your wallet back at the labs.”**  
  
**“i paid you back!”**  
  
**“It was still amusing.”**  
  
**“…hey G?”**  
  
**“Yes, Sans?”**  
  
**“d’you think we could just stay like this forever?”**  
  
**“Forever is a long time, Sans. Are you sure you want to be stuck with me for that long?”**  
  
**“ ‘course I do.”**  
  
**“Good. So do I.”**

They walked and walked, passing through every coordior and tried not to think too hard that Asgore’s house was far too similar to Toriel’s.  
  
_I will fix this. I will save everyone. We will be free._  
  
Wait…we?  
  
The word _anomaly_ sprung to mind. Flashes of Insights crossed their mind and Frisk realized suddenly that there was something very, _very_ wrong with this place.  
  
There were no monsters. No stories of Princes and Monarchs and lost children.  Frisk felt the fear crawling down their spine, and they dug their hands into their sweater, as if clutching for some kind of comfort.

“Hello? Anyone?” The sound of their voice echoed along the halls, bouncing and fading off into the distance.  
  
But nobody came. Not then. Not a moment later.  
  
They couldn’t stand the silence. Their pace increased, head spinning with panic as they nearly raced down the corridor.  Everything smelled like smoke, and the air tasted like _dust_.  
  
There wasn’t any dust. The floor was pristine. But they still _smelled it_ and _remembered_.  
  
_You feel your sins crawling down your back._  
  
_No. Not mine. I didn’t do this. I didn’t kill anyone._  
  
_Not this time._  
  
“Hello? Someone?” They spoke again, voice a bit hoarser than last time.  
  
But nobody came. Their pace increased. Frisk stumbled into the Final Corridor, eyes darting around. No sight of Sans.

  
Their pace slowed to a crawl, footsteps echoing down on the marble as they took one

                                                                                                                                                            step  
                                                                                                                                                                      after  
                                                                                                                                                                           another--  
  
A tree branch behind them broke. Frisk didn’t process that it was out of place. They weren’t in Snowdin. There were no tree branches to step on.   
  
There was no Gaster to remind them that there was something very, very wrong with this.

 

  
“heya. you’ve been busy.  
  
They didn’t process. Instead, they relaxed a bit and spun around--  
  
\--throwing themselves to the floor to dodge the blast that threatened to blow them to nothing.  
  
“you’re really kind of a freak, huh?” Frisk looked up, no sight of Sans where the blast had come from. “over here.” Behind them now. Frisk swiveled to no success.  
  
“you’re really bad at this, aren’t you.” They turned their head slowly, looking up at the window beside them.

  
  
In the backlight of blinding gold stood Sans, spines and roots coiling around his bones—looping and knotting around his hips and through his ribcage. Behind his skull, a familiar flower tilted his head and _grinned._  
  
“D o n ‘ t y o u k n o w h o w t o g r e e t a p a l ?”  Insights of Grimmhorror Lovecraftian _Abominations_ flashed before Frisk’s eyes.  
  
_Not like this. Never like this._  
  
Chlorophyll. The smell of dust was replaced by toxic, bitter _chlorophyll_.  
  
“it’s me. S A N S T H E S K E L E T O N. but here’s a better question.”  
  
He hopped off the windowsill, moving to loom over the human with burning blue eyes and a deathly smile. Around them, Gaster Blasters started to form, circling the child viciously.  
  
“Sans…” They couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. They could do nothing but shake violently because they were going to _die_ here.

  
  
_Gaster._

  
  
Help.

  
  
“did you really think you’d get away with killing tori?” The smile got a bit sharper and Frisk looked up, brown eyes wide.  
  
The world lit up with white.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**The Beginning of the End.**

 

 

“D I d y o u r e a l l y t h I n k t h a t w o u l d k I l l m e?”

  
  
To be honest, he had. Sans took a step back, watching as the kid stood up, hands glowing blue as they reached out and _tore_ at the soulless being wrapped around him. He could feel the flash of pain as Flowey recoiled—a single golden flower petal floating to the ground.

  
  
There was a screech from the demon he’d essentially sold his soul to. The kid looked up, eyes black like Void.

  
  
“D a r k, d a r k e r, y e t d a r k e r. T h I s w I l l b e . . . v e r y I n t e r e s t I n g.”

  
  
Another flash of blue, and the kid charged once more.


	17. Love doesn't discriminate (between the sinners and the saints)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have an excuse for how long it's been. We aren't far to the end though, and I do know where I'm going with this. Thanks for your patience.
> 
> Also---yes, the formatting is different. This is intentional =)

  
The buttercups are covered in Dust, and Sans wants to scream. Rage. Destroy the room and the Determination-Cursed-Half-Prince that lurks in the doorway.  
  
Toriel Dreemur is dead, and so is the last shred of hope for this timeline. For the kid.

  
  
“…you said that Frisk did this?” Flowey shifted, moving cautiously forwards.  
  
“Or Chara. I know them—how far they’d go.”  That name. That goddamned name of that goddamn child who Sans is so very, _very_ tired of fighting, of having to deal with every other timeline because they could’t keep a knife in the kitchen where it _belongs._  
  
The flower sighed from behind him, clearly unnerved by the tension in the air.Sans knelt down and brushed his fingers through the dust.  “They…get bored very easily. Very, _very_ easily.”

  
  
A snap of bone against bone as the skeleton clenched his teeth, and he could feel the flower _flinch_.

  
  
_Good._  He almost regrets the internal statement, ghosts of happier times past and lost echoing in his mind in admonishment.

  
  
He brushed them away.

  
  
“and how do I know that you didn’t do it yourself?” He could feel the Rage. Indignation. A final, quiet sigh.  
  
“Because I want this all to be over too.  How many resets has it been? How many happy endings have been _cut off?_ It’s getting _boring_ now. It’s time for something new, don’t you think? Something _good._ ”

  
  
_Good._  
  
He could feel his sins crawling on his back.

  
  
“..boring.” The dust clumps uncomfortably, leaving a weight in his ribcage. “—what a freak you two are—you and Chara.”  
  
“Do you believe me though?”  
  
“if you’re lying to me---“ Flowey seemed almost offended at that statement, huffing.  
  
“If you don’t believe me, then go looking for the answers yourself. They should be approaching the CORE soon. That’s _not_ Frisk.”  
  
He doesn’t sound like he’s lying. He sounds desperate. Then again—Flowey is a damn good liar and everyone knows it.

  
  
Then again—Sans isn’t sure he cares anymore.

  
  
Sans said nothing. He brushed his fingers through the dust once more before standing abruptly—burying his hands in his coat pockets and vanishing into a flash of pale blue light. He doesn’t see the look of sadness and concern disappear from Flowey’s face. He doesn’t hear the harsh laugh of triumph, as he scatters the dust to the air.  
  
Doesn’t see it fall too quickly—no residue magic to hold the particles of residue fireplace ash in the air.

  
  
_Well played, Mister Royal Scientist. But now—it’s my move._

* * *

  


Blue. Blue. _Pain and tearing_ as the petal floats to the floor. The sound of Flowey screeching reverberated through his skull and the golden acoustics of the grand hall. It was enough to make a grown monster weak in the knees and fear for his life

 

There’s something innately terrifying, Sans decided, about a small child trying to kill you. Kids were supposed to be messes all on their own, yes. Raising Pap means he already knew that. Papyrus never would have considered laying even a finger-bone on Sans though, no matter how lazy he was or how bad the puns were.

A human though. A human with determination. A human with determination and battle skills and _magic?_ He was running odds through his head even as he swiped at an oncoming attack. Where had the kid gotten any amount of magic? Timeline after timeline never suggested that Frisk or Chara were mages.

Whatever matter of creature they’d become—they didn’t flinch— dodging vines and blaster beams with a single minded determination. Void black eyes bore into him as their hand reached out, glowing blue and grasping at them again.  He dodged, barely, sending another blaster at them.

  
  
“you really are a freak-” he hissed, voice layered with lovecraftian nightmare that H.P couldn’t have dreamed himself. “-who’d you murder to get that power?”  
  
Another scream of pain passes from him, another petal hitting the floor as the _thing’s_ eyes narrowed.

  
  
“ S a n s . “ the darkness says “I t h o u g h t y o u h a d m o r e s e n s e t h a n t h I s , S a n s.” There’s something very familiar in the intonation, the way their expression hardens—then wipes clean and blank. This is not an expression familiar on a human. He’s only ever seen it on a friend.  


 

* * *

 

  
  
**“Dammit Sans—you fool!” He could see nothing, just the flickering of light in darkness—and even that is faint and surrounding blank vision. Skeletons don’t have eyelids, but hey—you can’t explain how magic affects monsters clearly. “I thought you had more sense than this!”**  
  
**He could hear Alphys’s voice in the distance, and he remembers this. They’d been working on an experiment, and an explosion had knocked him back and into a wall. He’d hit his head—and even in memory he could’t detatch himself from the pain—that of the wall or that of the voice.**  
  
**“If you die on me—I will drag you back from death myself and don’t think I won’t smack you for it!” He could feel warm arms wrap around him—and the embrace hurts less than the residual pain and the bubble of aching laughter that wells up in him.**  
  
**“you’re…overeactin’ .” A wheeze as he barely managed to peel his eyes open, staring up at his friend’s face. Blank with concern. “honestly gas, don’t you know me better than that?”**  
  
**“You always find a way to surprise me.” Gaster shook his head.**

* * *

  
  
“don’t look at me like that!” The petal’s already burned from blastfire and Flowey looks _bad_ as Sans’s eyes flare blue. “don’t you dare! you don’t get to feel bad after everything you’ve done!”  
  
“ A r r a n g e d f o r t h e f r e e d o m  o f a l l m o n s t e r k I n d?. N o R E S E T S . N o d e a t h s.”  
  
“and of tori? you call that no deaths?” Flowey curled sharply around him, bones twinging under the strain.  
  
_“Ignore him, Sans. Just kill him. We have the pow—AURGH!.”_

 __  
  
“I d o n t k n o w w h a t t h e  f a l l e n p r I n c e h a s t o l d y o u – b u t I a s s u r e y o u -- I ‘ v e k I l l e d n o o n e, n o r h a s F r I s k .”  
  
Sans dimly noted the change in Flowey’s tone. The change in pronouns. All through the pain.  He tried to focus, ignore the shouting.  
  
“ what the hell _are_ you?” Another hiss of pain, and he could feel the Flower wrap around his magic—take control to try and stomp out the not-kid with a flurry of blasts.

  
  
They don’t move, instead holding up one hand and taking the barrage full on. A scream dies in his throat because _fuck_ if he knows what he’s gotten himself into.  
  
The scream dies, and the smoke cleared, and they’re _still standing_. The walls around them were scorched—the magic kinetically redirected out of the way.  
  
That blank look is still there, though it’s tinged with the faintest lines of pity.

 

“ L e t h i m g o, A s r i e l. V I o l e n c e w i l l  s o l v e n o t h I n g. ”  
  
_“WHY WON’T YOU JUST DIE?”_  He caught a glance of Flowey’s face, manic and furious and vengeful and there’s something very _wrong_ about this situation. _He’s_  done something wrong, and the curling of vines and roots around his bones suddenly makes him feel sick.

  
  
This isn’t right.

  
  
“B e c a u s e t h a t i s m y c u r s e f o r m y h u b r i s .” Not-Frisk looks up at Sans, and they don’t speak—but he sees them mouth something.

  
  
_Forgive me._

 __  
  
They twisted their still outstretched hand, and for many moments, all he feels is pain and _lightness._ It’s overbearing and the only good thing is that the sound of Flowey’s screeching _stops_. The ever-tightening grasp on his form disappears.  
  
For a moment, he’s floating. One step forward. Another.

  
  
His knees hit the ground with a sharp jolt of pain, no longer supported by the wayward flower to provide him with the vitality needed to maintain the fight.  
  
“well—that was a mistake.” He rasped, not able to look up fully at the figure in front of him. Even out of the corner of his fading vision, they still seem to flicker between human and--

  
   
“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry.”

 __  
  
Frisk—this _Ghost_ —whatever the case—they didn’t get the chance to respond. The sounds of footfalls approaching echoed in the hall—holding something heavy and regal and _shit_ —they really weren’t that far from the throne room. It would be only seconds before Asgore got here. Before he realized what this _looked like_.  
  
The last thing he would see was a thin, shaking hand wrapped around his wrist as blue light enveloped the room.

* * *

  
  
  
A small cloud of dust rose from the linens as two battered figures materialized in the near darkness of the True Lab.  One of them was unconscious. The other---  
  
Brown eyes glance around the room as Frisk sighed and rubbed at their head. It pounded to the beat of whatever monstrosity of a magical anomaly had just taken up space in their brain.  
  
Pounding—but still silent, despite the magic very _clearly_ having been Gaster’s.  
  
_Right. Out of magic. No power-- as it’s supposed to be. Still sick and tired of mysteries._  Another sigh, and they glanced back at the skeleton on the bed.  
  
_…we need to talk._  
  
He’s surprisingly light, they noted, as they lifted him, wrapping his arms around their shoulders as the child carried him into the darkened hallways.

  
  
**END OF PART TWO – GOODBYE, HAPPY DAYS**  
  
 


	18. Nobody said it would be this hard (Oh take me back to the start)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My goal is to have this done for June. I'm not doing another long hiatus (not when I have other stories I want to write--not necessarily in this universe but sideways (and definitely with Gaster and Sans being ridiculous).

_‘Do you want to leave this place, Frisk?” They’re fourteen and one week when the words echo in their mind, breaking through the sound of the pigeons squawking on the other side of the school roof and that of their own laboured breath. Their arms ache, and they can almost feel them bloom with mottled purples and yellows and greens as the bruises settle in. “We could, you know.”_  
  
  
_“And go where, Ghost?” It is perhaps more bitter than they’d prefer to be towards their best friend. “Home? Where I’ll get yelled at for being in another fight? One that I didn’t even start? I just wanted to do my science homework in peace.”_  
  
_A pause._  
  
_  
“I didn’t mean this place as in your school. I meant this area as in this town. This existence. We could go somewhere else. Anywhere.”_  
  
_Mt. Ebbot loomed in the distance as their gaze flickered upwards—eyes slammed shut at the sudden wave of nausea and half-dreamed images that hit them.  “Breathe, Frisk.”_  
  
_  
“It’s not real. The dreams aren’t real. There are no monsters under that mountain.” Their voice shakes at that, and they both know that they don’t believe that. The tomes of fairy tales mixed among the physics textbooks under their bed proved it. “And if there were—why would I go there?”_  
  
_  
“Because science will only take you so far—the Science of Man anyways.” They’ve heard this speech before. Had this conversation in many variations already._  
  
_  
“Do monsters have Science?”_  
  
_  
“Yes---and Magic.”_  
  
_  
“Capital M?” They could see him smile in the back of their mind. Shake his head. Hear him sigh._  
  
_  
“We would go because it’s better than here. And because the potential there is staggering.”_  
  
_  
“The potential for what?” Hesitantly._  
  
  
_“Joy. Happiness. Success. Do you trust me, Frisk?” Not for the first time, Frisk contemplated that they may be truly insane-- if talking to the voice in their head meant a psych visit, and listening to them by  running away from everything they knew to chase after fairy tales meant a permanent room in the ward._  
  
  
_“Always.”_

* * *

The True Lab was quiet save for their footsteps and the distant trembling of cabinets and closets where they knew that _something_ terrifying lurked within.  
  
A flash of Insight hit them— _Amalgamations_. That’s what they are. And they’re _scared_ of them and whatever strange powers come with being somehow tied to a temporal-dimensionally challenged Monster.  
  
They weren’t sure how to feel about that. Frisk didn’t _feel_ terrifying. Not to themself.  
  
Then again, the unconscious and still heavily injured skeleton that they were still carrying would likely disagree—if he was awake that is.  
  
~~He’s hurt because of me.  
  
No. I didn’t do anything. It was Flowey.  
  
It was our magic that retaliated. It was my RESETS that drove him to be afraid.  
  
I really am a freak, aren’t I.~~  
  
There’s a quiet dying wail from their phone as it lost signal. Frisk bit down on their own lip, using the distraction of the taste of blood to resist shouting, weeping, crying out because _this was never the plan_.  
  
They never knew it to begin with. And it was so much easier to ~~hate no not hate~~  be angry at Gaster when he was gone.  
  
  
_“Gaster, what am I supposed to do now? What was the plan? Where did you go?”  
  
  
_ There is the chill in the wake of having no response that they’re slowly growing accustomed to. But there’s warmth and faint hope in the fact that another Insight hits them.  
  
**“Everything will be fine, Alphys. Trust me. And do me a favour?”**  
  
**  
“Yeah?”**  
  
**  
“I'd appreciate if you didn't try to hinder our movements through the Hotlands. I understand that it's rather late to stop Mettaton, but we're running on a schedule and there are forces at work I'd rather stay one step ahead of.” Alphys frowned, unseen to Gaster who’s flipping through something solid—making piles.**  
  
**  
“W-what _is_ your plan?” Gaster turned back, lifting one of those same piles that Frisk couldn’t quite define.**  
  
  
**“It’s a long story. Does the cellphone upgrade you gave Frisk have a video camera function?”**

* * *

_He’s dreaming. He knows he’s dreaming because it’s the only time that his memories of Gaster aren’t distorted and crumbling—the same way that they had The Kid towards the end of the last timeline._  
  
_He’s dreaming and this isn’t a memory—this curtained-lined room of shadows isn’t familiar. Neither is the table where he’s sitting._  
  
_The expression on Gaster’s face is familiar though, exasperated and tired and mildly pained._  
  
_And pitying. Just a bit. Sans winces, leaning back in his own chair trying not to topple over though that might honestly be a reprieve._  
  
_  
“hey gas—whats up?” He can play this off. Try and distract and deflect. He’ll be damned if he lets his subconscious try and make him feel worse than he already does. “i like the new place, very gothic and you.”_  
  
_Gaster says nothing. Sans winces again and sighs—the sound echoing through the small room. “I fucked up.”_  
  
_  
“Yes. You did.” His voice is clipped. Sharp. Not distorted like he’s used to—even in dreams. “Really, Sans. Making a deal with a demonic soulless prince to kill a child?”_  
  
_  
“they started it.” It’s not the right response and they both know it as Gaster’s expression narrows. “alright, alright. I get it. wrong thing to say.”_  
  
_  
“What Frisk did wasn’t right, regardless of Chara’s varying influence. And I do understand that you were afraid, as do they. That does **not** , however, give you an excuse for this. Asriel could have killed you had either of you lost even a fraction more of control, and I do not remember giving you permission to **die** so **easily.** ”_  
  
_The words are more than a bit possessive. Both blink, and Sans thinks that this must be what home feels like._  
  
_Even if it is a dream._  
  
_  
“i miss you.” Finally. Gaster relaxes just a bit._  
  
_  
“I know. I’m sorry.” His voice…wavers. Not out of emotion—though he’s sure there’s some of that there too. It’s like it’s become layered, and Sans can hear a voice in the background. Quiet, indistinct._  
  
  
_“what—”_  
  
  
_“Wake up, Sans. It’s time to wake up.”_

He did, and the voice became more distinct.  
  
**“—need you to follow the plan, now that you know it. I am sorry that it came to this. Forgive me, Frisk. I never meant to hurt you. I believe in you.”**  
  
The VCR tape ended as blue eyes flickered awake, taking in the view of The Kid—Frisk—as they stared at the TV screen, their own eyes bright as hands burrowed into the lab coat they wore with a white-knuckled grip.  
  
“did ya get the licence plate of the car that hit me—” He coughed weakly as he watched Frisk’s head whip up to look at him. “ ’cause I’m dead tire-d.”

* * *

  
  
Click.  
  
Black eyes stared into the camera, and Frisk watched in unnerved fascination as a mirror of themselves sat back in a chair.  
  
“ **If you’re watching this, Frisk. It means that I am indisposed and that I have left you to complete the plan that took us both years and a millisecond to form.”** They watch as he pauses. **“Well, time is rather malleable in the In-Between, but the sentiment is the same. I know you must be confused. I’ve owed you an explanation for a very long time.”  
  
** He closes his eyes for a moment and Frisk held their breath, waiting.  
  
**“You asked me, once, what RESETs were. If you were capable of them. I admit, I don’t know how much you will remember by the time you see this. The answer is yes—you were once capable of doing so. You did—have lived this adventure almost a hundred times by now. Living. Making choices—good and ill. And many of those ill by the influence of another—”  
  
** Frisk paused the tape. Fast-forwarded.  They remembered Chara. And they remembered that it wasn’t all their fault, that some of the choices they made themselves.  
  
  
Click.  
  
**“—remember that it’s the choices we make that define us. I have done atrocities in the name of Science before. I won’t believe that I can judge you. But I have to believe that we can make the future better still—if not to fix our past mistakes then to make sure that no one can repeat them.”** They watched as Gaster sighs. He spoke slowly, carefully.  
  
**“You were capable of RESETS. And by now—you should likely realize that you were not the only one who remembered this fact across timelines. That a tired and desperate man took an unconscionable action to keep you from continuing to do so. I don’t condone what he did, Sans. But I like to think that I know you well enough after all these years to know that you understand why he did it. He pushed you into the CORE—knowing that many years ago, when I had fallen in myself during an experiment gone wrong, it wiped me from time and space. He hoped that you wouldn’t be able to RESET. That the cycle would end. He didn’t quite understand that by doing so—it instead scattered you, your soul would split into shards across time and space.”  
  
** Frisk paused the video again. Buried their face in their hands and forced themself to _breathe._  
  
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.  
  
  
Click.  
  
**“That’s…not quite what happened. You see, when my experiment failed and I fell—I had been working with Determination as a volatile element. When combined with a Monster’s soul, it becomes viscous—generally causing the monster to deform. You were splitting. You needed help.”  
  
** Frisk closes their eyes and breathes—forcing their gaze inward to see their own soul.  
  
See the cracks in it, and where they’re lined in glowing white.  
  
**“I couldn’t leave nonexistence on my own. Neither could you. But together—I could hold your soul together while you RESET. The aftermath…merged us. Two souls overlapped , combining into one as the memories of both formed two distinct minds. It wasn’t a longterm solution—and it was hypothesized that with the strength of a human soul—we would eventually completely amalgamate—not disparate like those that Doctor Alphys accidentally created. One person, not quite human. Not quite monster. But alive, and enough that it would let us bring down the Barrier. We would live. We would save everyone. And we had to do it right because our combined Determination was so focused on holding itself together that there could never be another RESET. “  
  
** Black void-like eyes meet theirs through the screen.  
  
**“We have to do this right. I promised you joy. Happiness. Success. We will save them all—even Asriel—damned as he is soulless. There is a plan.  Let me tell you it.”**

* * *

**“** you know that you’re kind of a freak, yeah?” Sans broke the silence and watched as The Kid ducked their head. “you could have killed me. but you didn’t.”  
  
The _Why Didn’t You?_  was unspoken.  
  
  
“Just because you hate me, doesn’t mean I hate you.” They said, finally. Sans frowned.  
  
  
“i killed you. that’s pretty big on the ‘reasons you should hate me’ list.”  
  
  
“And I did the same how many times?” The words come out more bitter than Sans knows they mean to. “I think we’re even, Sans.”  
  
  
There’s silence. Sans glanced at the tapes, then back at Frisk--  
  
“so—mind telling me who your spooky friend is?” ~~And why they’re so familiar because it can’t be Gaster. He’s gone.~~  
  
~~But so was Frisk.~~  
  
  
Frisk laughed—and it’s uncomfortable for the both of them. This whole situation is.  
  
“Tell you what—once the Barrier goes down, if you don’t know by then, it will be obvious.”  
  
It’s unspoken for a moment that Sans’s suspicions were confirmed. His soul ached in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.  
  
  
“you’re still planning on that?” The words left him instead of everything else he wants to say.  
  
  
“I made a promise.” Frisk won’t look at him—not in the eyes. “I’m going to see it through. But…I’m going to need you to trust me.”  
  
  
“and if I don’t?” Bluntly. Honestly.  
  
  
“Then trust that there are Ghosts that know what they’re doing.” Sans closed his eyes.

 _  
“i miss you.”_  
  
_“I know. I’m sorry.”_  
  
  
“…fine.” After a moment. “…fine.”


End file.
